


A Game of The Dead

by SanSanFan



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-27 16:41:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SanSanFan/pseuds/SanSanFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandor and Sansa must cross a post-apocolyptic, zombie infested United State in the hopes of finding safety. Along the way they must contend with the dead and other survivors; friends and enemies. </p>
<p>All characters belong to George R. R. Martin and many plot-lines were inspired by The Walking Dead (comic series and tv).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Prologue 

Ned Stark had been friends with Robert Baratheon for years. Having grown into a boisterous man, Robert had been an even more unruly young adult. The pair had met at Harvard Law School and formed a fast friendship despite their opposite personalities. Where Robert was loud and cocksure, Ned was humble and shy. Robert was the embodiment of excess and Ned the picture of spartan reserve. 

Ned hadn’t been surprised at all when Robert revealed a desire to enter politics; the public arena seemed like the only place he would fit. Robert was as dashing as Kennedy and as persuasive in his convictions as Reagan. Neds own political ambitions were driven solely by familial obligation. His father had held local offices in their hometown and his brother, Brandon, had earned a seat in the state senate before the accident. When a random act of violence shook the family, Ned knew his fate was sealed. He was going to be expected to fill his brothers shoes, and so he kept his head down and worked hard. Where Robert had more than one skeleton in his closet, Ned’s reputation was spotless. 

In the end Robert’s past was little more than a blip on the radar screen when he met Cersei Lannister. She was the daughter of Tywin Lannister, the incumbent senator for Maryland’s seventh district. Tywin approved of the match and promptly took care of Robert’s indiscretions. When elections came back around Tywin decided not to run and instead threw his support and money behind his son in law. Robert had won every re-election since. Ned had never trusted the Lannisters but let well enough alone for the love of his friend. 

Catelyn Tully fell in love with Brandon Stark the first time she laid eyes on him. Undergraduates at NYU together, Brandon had been blind to her infatuation. He had concentrated on his studies and enjoyed her friendship, nothing more. Upon graduation the pair fell out of touch, Cat went back home to Georgia and Brandon to Stanford. Ned had always had a crush on Cat and never understood how Bran could have been so stupid. At Brandon’s funeral Ned hadn’t been surprised to catch a glimpse of Cat in the back row. Afterwards he had chatted with her and guiltily asked her to meet him for coffee. Much to his surprise, she agreed. 

Her love for him had grown naturally and with time. If she truly viewed him as a consolation prize she never let on; they had been happily married for the last 25 years. She had supported him through everything and had always been the knowing voice inside his head as he acted as senator for New York’s first district. Ned was enamored with her and adored the five children she gave him. Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon had completed their happy family. 

At the start of the outbreak Ned had tried to reason with his peers. Despite the influx of reports of a novel virus reanimating the dead, and the lack of a satisfactory explanation from the CDC, what the country needed in the face of this crisis was leadership and resolve. The government had to stand strong, to use the knowledge of the outbreak to contain it, not allow it to break the country they served. It wouldn’t do for anyone to be seen scurrying underground. However, as time went on the virus spread and more and more politicians, policemen, doctors, and aid workers abandoned their posts. Even the military had begun to thin within its ranks. The President gave speech after speech, quarantines were set in heavily affected areas and refugee camps were established. In the end none of it had mattered, people were scared and Ned couldn’t blame them. Everything was breaking down and the dead were rising against the living. 

The Lannister’s had immediately taken steps to ensure their status among D.C’s elite, and to secure themselves a place in the governmental bunker. These bunkers had never been used, they didn’t even officially exist, and yet flocks of politicians and their families fought for sanctuary. Ned pleaded with Robert to stand tall for the people he represented. Instead he drank himself into a stupor and ended up gutted by frantic looters in the back alleys of D.C. 

Ned had mourned his friend and made up his mind. He sent Cat home to her family’s estate. Plans to leave the city were not easy to make; space in the few helicopters and private planes making it out was limited and in high demand. Ned sent his best bodyguards and most trusted employee’s, Jory and Rodrik, to bribe a the pilot of a small plane. Money and the promise of safety for the pilot and his daughter had been the price to pay to get his family out of D.C. Robb, a sophomore at GW, had protested initially, demanding with all the assurance of youth, to stand by his father. Even Jory and Rodrick had wanted to stand with him, but they were better at orders than Robb and their strength and training would be needed should the Tully farm be compromised. Ned had reminded Robb that he needed to be the man of the house now and his son had reluctantly agreed. Days before the airport was overrun Ned had watched his family fly away. Relieved, he knew he could do his duty knowing his family was going to be safely out of the city; except   
Sansa. 

Sansa was his eldest daughter and second born. Beautiful and courteous she was everything a father could ask for. When the crisis began she was just finishing her first year at Stanford. With finals looming Ned had assured her that the outbreak would be contained. Besides, he had reasoned, the Clegane man could surely watch over his charge’s girlfriend. Sansa had begun dating Joffery Baratheon during the first weeks of school and as far as Ned could tell she was absolutely smitten with the boy. Sandor Clegane was Joffery’s bodyguard hired by his helicopter mother Cersei; ruthless and uncouth as he may be Ned didn’t doubt his abilities at his job. Ned told Sansa to stick with Joffery should things get more out of hand. He had told her that he loved her and soothed her fears the last time they talked. Communication systems failed shortly after that.   
Ned couldn’t think of any of that now. Amongst the sea of refugees he was no longer a senator or a Stark, only another frightened human being. He had urged people to follow the governments last orders and seek refuge in the cities, doing so himself to lead by example. How wrong could he have been? The cities, with their dense populations and high crime indexes had been the first to be overrun. No one could establish order and the refugee centers began providing less aid as they became more like totalitarian death camps. 

When the doors finally gave way and the dead began flooding the halls, Ned prayed to every god he could think of that his family would forgive him. Forgive him his foolish pride, and stubborn honor. Above all he prayed that they would survive.


	2. Retreat

Retreat  
Sandor Clegane could pinpoint the exact moment in time when he had stopped caring. Stopped caring about the injustice in the world and stopped caring about his own pathetic life. It was this apathy that made him so damn good at his job, that and his military experience. Sandor was willing at any moment to take a bullet or do what was necessary to protect his little shit of a charge. At least someone cared about that life. 

The situation had been no different when the damn Lannister woman had called him and asked him to brave the zombie apocalypse to bring her pouty mouthed brat home. It wasn’t the promise of sanctuary that drove him, it was an order and Sandor was good at following those. 

As Sandor waited out the first weeks of the outbreak in his house he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the Stark girl. He couldn’t imagine that she had been any luckier than Joff in terms of getting a flight home and he also couldn’t fathom the boy playing the gallant to protect her. Unless of course he thought he’d get something out of it. 

Sansa bloody Stark had been a problem for Sandor since Joff first laid eyes on her.   
“What do you think of that one, dog?” Joffery had whispered conspiratorially to Sandor during orientation, pointing less than covertly at a pretty red head in the first rows of the auditorium.

“I don’t.”, Sandor had grunted but since that point his words had proven to be a lie. 

Sandor had done little else but think of Sansa since the boy had snared the little bird in the first week of classes. He couldn’t help but wonder how she could truly be so oblivious to all the lies she was being fed; the cheesy pick-ups and shameless flatteries. The girl was clearly enamored with the little weasel and Sandor could not for the life of him figure out why this irked him so badly. Sandor was not accustomed to caring for another, not unless he was paid to do so, and he wasn’t sure he much liked the feeling. 

Truth was the girl had invaded his dreams, innocent and not so, and embedded herself deeply underneath his skin without even knowing it. She was always polite to him as he trailed her little dates with Joff but she was too consumed by the boy, or too scared of his grotesque face to pay him any real attention. Sandor repeatedly had to resist the urge to shake her and plead with her to open her eyes. 

Sandor could recall a particularly maddening instance of the girls naivete. Joff had taken her to a movie and dinner, the usual, but that particular night he had managed to order drinks with dinner despite being underaged. Sandor knew better than anyone that alcohol put the boy in a foul mood and so his hackles were up, praying inwardly that Sansa wouldn’t do anything to displease him. He had seen what happened to the face of the last girl who pissed Joff off while he was drunk. If Joff hadn’t been the grandson of a Lannister, and the son of a senator he would have faced jail time for the beating he doled out to that girlfriend, not to mention all the whores he’d punished before that. Sansa clearly didn’t approve of the drinking, but she didn’t say anything at dinner. It wasn’t until the boy tried to paw her in the backseat of Sandor’s truck that her distress became evident.

“Joff please... I want to go back. Can you please take me back?”

Gentleman that he was, Joff ignored her. Sandor could feel the rage rising like bile. He couldn’t stand to see the way the boy pulled at Sansa’s clothing. Again and again, he grabbed the hem of her dress, trying to move it despite Sansa’s repeated protestations. Joff tried once more and Sansa tugged the dress down, this time Joff was more than annoyed. Roughly he grabbed her wrist, hissing, “Fine. Go back... what do I care? Dog, take the lady back to campus. I’m going out.” At the next red light, Joff hopped from the cab, slamming the door behind him. Sansa flinched, biting her lip as tears welled in her eyes. Sandor would have given anything to shake her in that moment, to ask her if she truly didn’t realize what was going on. Instead he had driven her to her dorm and opened the car door for her. As she climbed from the cab he noticed that she was rubbing her wrist, the one the boy had grabbed. As gently as he could he took the girls hand, examining the damage. It wouldn’t bruise but by the look of the red mark there, he imagined it hurt. Sansa avoided his gaze, tears silently slipping down her cheeks. Sandor took a tissue for him pocket, wiping away a tear as it fell. When the girl had still refused to look at him he had held the tissue out for her to take. She had taken it and began to walk away but before she could get too far Sandor grasped her hand. “Save yourself some pain girl...” Sandor had said, but he hadn’t known how to go one. Give him what he wants? No, he didn’t want that for her...or him. Sandor wasn’t sure he could stomach the idea of Joff’s hands all over the little birds body. In the end he’d let her go, watching with growing guilt as her red haired figure disappeared across the quad. 

It probably didn’t matter now anyway. Sandor had been keeping an eye on the streets for the last three weeks. The quarantines had failed miserably and in the early days the panicked hoards were just as dangerous as the undead. Sandor knew better than to go charging into that mess. The boy would wait for him, his mother would see to that. What they both needed now was to let the thick of it die down.

The outbreak had spread faster than anyone anticipated. Stories of bites began cropping up with increasing frequency a couple months ago, a week after that the government acknowledged the existence of what they called a “novel virus”. The situation had deteriorated rapidly since, cases had increased exponentially and infrastructure had dissolved at a similar clip. The last phone call Sandor received was from the Lannister bitch and even though she hadn’t said it out right the understanding was clear between the both of them. This was it, the world as they knew it, was at an end.

Sandor never got out much anyway and that had proved an asset. He was able to fortify the doors to his little house off campus and ration his pantry to last the three weeks it took the chaos to finally die down. His armaments would have seemed excessive before the world went to shit, but Sandor had learned early on to trust no one but himself. He guessed he could have been called a prepper. One of those people who hoarded guns and ammunition and had bunkers and basements full of food. Sandor didn’t have a bunker, but he had a basement full of food. He had never put too much thought into what had driven him to stockpile but it was going to serve him now. As he packed it all up he had made a mental inventory, between water and food he and the boy should be able to last for several weeks. The trouble was going to be carrying it all when the truck inevitably ran out of gas. That was a prep Sandor lacked, he hadn’t exactly planned to make a cross country trip should the world end. 

Slowly the masses of people in the streets had thinned. Campus had been deserted early and now the only movement was from the shambling zombies that occasionally traversed his drive. Sandor figured that the food sources in the cities had been exhausted and the herds of the undead were going to have to spread out to find more human flesh. Placing the last of the rations on the floor of his Ford F-150 Raptor, Sandor surveyed the street. As he turned the keys in the ignition he reasoned to no one in particular, “Looks like as good a day as any. Lets hope the little bugger really had the good sense to stay put.”   
____________________________________________________________________________

Patience as not a virtue Joffery had been blessed with. Unfortunately Sansa had learned that fact, the hard way. When the outbreak had truly gotten out of hand Sansa had listened to her father and gone directly to Joff. Initially he hadn’t seemed too keen on the idea. His hesitance to take her in was shocking but Sansa had reasoned that people do strange things when they were frightened. The whole world as doing strange things. 

For the first few days Sansa had been able to push the realities of the outside horrors from her mind. She knew that her mother and siblings were safe at her grandparents estate and her father was protected by the military like the rest of the refugees in New York. At the time she had even deluded herself into thinking that being locked away with Joffery would be romantic in a way. She had never spent the night with him but surely those rules didn’t apply anymore. She pictured him holding her tight and telling her that everything would be fine, that he wouldn’t let anything hurt her. The reality came as a cold slap. With each rebuffed sexual advance and emptied bag of potato chips Joff had become a monster. 

Joff hadn’t immediately become a different person; his moments of controlling and erratic behavior were interspersed with the return of the charming boy she knew, at least in the early days. It wasnt until after the first week that he truly changed. On the ninth night he punched the television after Sansa dropped a can of soup. Sansa had apologized profusely and been taken completely unawares when his next blow landed on her cheek.

“You stupid bitch, don’t you know we have to ration!? I should have let you die. I only let you in here so I could sleep with you.”, he had hissed at her as she cowered beneath him, “Frigid and stupid, thats all you are.” He had mumbled several more nasty pejoratives before relenting and tossing a rag at her to wipe up the mess. 

The torture inside the room was nothing compared to the nightmare she heard just outside the door. Day after day classmates came pounding, pleading, but Joff would never let them in. Sansa had received her second beating when she had begged him to give them refuge. His fists landed twice on her jaw before she fell to the ground; the blows from his kicks hurt far more than his punches. The screams of agony and fear in the halls seemed to be the constant background until one day they just died. Sansa couldn’t say she liked the eerie silence any better. 

The days since had been a surreal type of hell. The world was ending and Sansa was stuck with the psychopath she had once thought she loved. ‘I really am stupid’, she thought as she cried herself to sleep at night. She walked on eggshells, doing her best to stay out of Joffs way and keep him happy. The knock on the door, and the following gruff but familiar voice on the afternoon of the twenty first day, was a glimmer of hope. Sansa knew that Joff had been promised a coveted place in a governmental bunker and that his body guard, Sandor was going to be the one to deliver him there. She could only hope now that he would take pity on her and bring her along. Surely Robert would take her in for the love he bore her father. 

Joff opened the door and immediately Sandors hulking frame poured inside. He slammed the door behind him and easily replaced the barricades Joff had laboriously removed only seconds earlier. He didn’t seem to notice Sansa huddled on the desk chair and instead addressed Joffery, “We are going now. Not a lot of time to discuss, you listen to me and you live. You play the fool and I will gladly let them eat you. The choice is yours and I promise you that I don’t give two shits either way.”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that dog! My mother will...”

Before Joff could finish one of Sandors impossibly large hands placed a blow across his cheek, sending the boy to his knees. Sansa gasped audibly, drawing Sandors attention. 

“So he took you in huh? Surprisingly chivalrous of you Joff.” He sneered dragging the boy up by his elbow. “Lets go, both of you. Gather whatever food you have left and anything you can swing. You will both need to improvise a weapon and as soon as we get out of the door you need to be prepared to aim for the head.”

“She isn’t coming with us.” Joff stated as he wiped a dribble of blood from his lip.

Sandor pulled him close, until the boys nose was flush with his own. “You listen to me you arrogant son of a bitch. You aren’t calling the shots anymore.” Releasing the boy Sandor cleared the room in three strides. He knelt before Sansa and took her hand in his own with a tenderness she had experienced from him once before. “If you listen to me we will make it through this. I won’t let anything hurt you, even Joffery. He fears me and so should anyone else who lays a hand on you.” With that he reached up and turned her face, revealing the bruise Joff had left. Regaining his feet he turned again to his charge, “Lay a finger on her again and we will see how well you do against a grown man. Now both of you pack up.”


	3. Scorched Earth

Scorched Earth

The group of three packed what little Joffery had left in his room. Even if his mother had always kept him well stocked so he didn’t have to deign to eat in the school’s dining hall, the boy had not done a good job at rationing. What little he had left fit neatly in the backpack Sandor had carried up from the truck. Sandor had hoped that the boy would have more water, but the empty bottles littering the floor had disillusioned him of that. He packed Joff’s backpack much more lightly than his own. He threw in two heavy jackets, one for each of the children, a few extra pieces of clothing, a flashlight, batteries, and the first aid kit Joff had shoved deep into his desk the second his mother had left campus. He made rags out of a tee shirts and handed it to Sansa and Joff, instructing them to tie it over their faces. The new pack he gave to Sansa, he was loathe to burden her but he didn’t trust the boy as far as he could throw him, and should he have to throw him they would need those supplies.   
‘So much for orders you idiot,’ Sandor thought, ‘Can’t be dreaming about strangling the boy now...’

In the closet Sandor had found Joff’s golf clubs and a roll of duct tape. He gave a driver each to Sansa and Joff. He looked the pair over, Joff was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt but Sansa had only yoga leggings and a gauzy tee. Distracting and not practical. Luckily, they both had running shoes. Sandor searched Joff’s closet for a long sleeved tee shirt which he tossed to Sansa. Once she had put it on he began tearing strips of duct tape from the roll. “Wrap your legs to the calf, both of you. The halls are dark and you won’t hear the crawlers coming. The tape should give you time to get away should one try to bite.” If it was possible, Sansa seemed to pale even more than she was before. When they were done, Sandor addressed them again, “The only way to kill them is the aim for the head. Whatever you do don’t let them get close enough to bite you. Don’t panic. They aren’t very quick and they are only truly dangerous if you get cornered and overwhelmed. Listen to me and we will make it.”

______________________________________________________________________________

‘Listen to him and youll make it.   
Listen to him and youll make it.   
Listen to him and youll make it.’ 

Sansa chanted over and over in her head. No matter how she tried she could not steady her hands. Her driver ratted pathetically against the tile floor as Sandor removed the futon from the door. He looked back, right at her and asked, “Are you ready?”

‘No’ Sansa thought miserably but she managed to nod all the same. 

“Just use the club girl. You can do that.”

She could do that. She had to be able to do that.

Sandor opened the door a crack and peered into the hall, motioning with his hand for her and Joff to follow. The hall was pitched back and Sansa found herself glued to Sandors side. He must have felt her shaking because he placed his hand calmingly on the small of her back. 

“You’ll hear them coming for the most part.” Sandor said, “They shuffle and drag, and groan.”

‘For the most part!?’ Sansa thought of the duct tape on her legs. ‘Maybe I should have just stayed in the room.’

Luckily, Clearing Joff floor was easy. Most students hadn’t stayed in the dorms. They had fled home or to one of the refugee camps. Sansa wondered about those she had heard screaming and pleading though. ‘Maybe they all made it out, maybe they are all home with their families.’ At the end of the hall Sandor held out his arm, motioning for the group to stop. Sansa’s eyes had adjusted to the dark as well as they could and she knew they were standing at the door the the stairwell. 

“This is where it gets dangerous. A lot of kids bottlenecked in the stairs. Most of what we will encounter is trampled bodies but we have a couple live ones. Luckily they are distracted by feeding. Stay alert”

Sandors words produced an immediate reaction in Sansa. As she wretched into the corner she heard Joffery chuckle darkly, “I told you we should have left her dog.” 

Sandor reached out for her, finding her elbow in the dark. “Here girl take this.” he said, thrusting a handkerchief at her. Sansa took it gratefully, wiping her mouth. “Thank you.” she muttered shyly remembering the last time he had offered her a tissue. ‘They are going to leave you behind, be brave, you are you’re fathers daughter. A wolf.’ she thought, thinking of the family crest that had hung above the fireplace during her childhood.   
Sandors voice broke into her rumination, “Are you ready girl?”  
“Yes.”

Pushing the door to the stairwell open Sandor led and Sansa fell in behind him. Joffery seemed to hesitate at the door before swinging the club in a graceful arc. Blood splattered across Sansa’s face as she heard him laugh, “Look it’s that half wit Lollys Stokeworth. Never liked that bitch anyway.” He swung again, landing another blow with a sickening crack to the face of the dead girl on the landing. 

“Shut up.” Sandor growled, “They are slow but they aren’t deaf. This is not a game, boy. I don’t want to draw a hoard of them down on us. Who knows how many are above and below us.”

Scoffing, the boy fell in line as they trudged down the stairs. Sansa had to squint hard to avoid tripping over the bodies scattered everywhere. At points the mass was so thick they had to climb over them. Sansa tried to push the horrific reality of what they were doing out of her mind, but the stench of the dead and dying could not be ignored. Now she understood why Sandor had insisted they tie the tee shirts over their face. Time and again she had to swallow the bile that rose in her throat. 

As they reached the first floor landing Sansa heard the groans. Sandor heard them too and pushed her towards the door. She stumbled on the landing and felt Joff fall on top of her. 

“Out that door now. Keep your eyes peeled. This floor will be lighter but its also more crowded. Make it to the door and out onto the quad, my truck is parked there.”

Joff shoved her aside as they exited the stairwell. Mercifully the first floor wasn’t pitched black, a small consolation as Sansa glimpsed what Sandor meant by crowded. The dead shambling through the hallway perked up as they heard the door open, immediately they moved towards their prey. Sansa stood temporarily frozen in fear before she remembered Sandor’s orders and broke towards the door. At a run she swung again and again, fighting towards freedom. Cold hands grasped at her and rotting flesh flew with every swing. After what felt like an eternity she saw the double doors leading out of the prison she’d been held in for the last month. Landing one last blow she stumbled out the doors and into the blinding sunlight. Quickly she spotted Sandors truck. Jogging forward she pressed her back to the bed. Club outstretched she was relieved when she finally saw Sandor emerge into the quad, Joffery shambling behind as he roughly dragged him by the collar. 

Suddenly she felt something grab her from beneath the truck. Losing her balance she fell forward, scraping her knee on the concrete. Panicked she tried to crawl away, fighting against the cold she could feel seeping through the duct tape. In one quick motion she rolled to her back, leveraging her free leg for a kick. The blow landed squarely, causing her heel to sink into the rotten flesh of the zombies skull. Breathing raggedly Sansa regained her feet. She barely had time to comprehend what had happened before Sandor was upon her. 

When Sandor reached the truck he unlocked it and tossed the boy into the back seat. As Sansa went to climb in behind him, he grasped her wrist and turned her to face him. His eyes were wild, filled with fear and something Sansa couldn’t quite place. 

“Did they scratch you!?” he demanded frantically, “Were you bit!?” 

“No! No I promise.” Sansa stated, attempting to wiggle free, “Please you’re hurting me.”

Finally he dropped her wrists, stepping back as he breathed in deeply. Sansa avoided his eyes as she rubbed her wrists. He reached out and checked her legs, the duct tape was intact. Next he examined the scrape on her knee. He used his finger to gently wipe away the blood, pulling back the second he heard her wince. At the contact, Sansa remembered the handkerchief he had given her. She pulled it from her side, where she had tucked it into the waistband of her legging, and extended it to him. Grunting it took it from her and wiped the blood away in earnest. “Its not deep little bird, nothing a few bandaids cant fix.” 

Standing, he towered over her. Sansa could feel his heartbeat as he wrapped her arms around her to retrieve the first aid kit he had taken in Joff’s room. Pulling out a band aid, he gave it to her. 

“Into the car then.” he said stalking towards to the drivers side. Sansa turned to obey as Joffery slammed the door to the back seat in her face. She instead climbed miserably into the passenger seat. 

As they rode in silence she couldn’t help but wonder at the absurdity of the situation. The dead were walking, her white knight had turned into a psychopath, and her only hope was a brute of a man she could barely look in the eye.


	4. Booby Traps

Booby Traps

‘She can’t even bear to look at you’ Sandor thought as he navigated the campus, ‘Do you blame her? Does it change anything? You’ll keep her alive whether she wants to look at you or not, dog.’

Sandor was no white knight and he certainly wasn’t a pretty face but he had resolved since the moment he found Sansa in that dorm room that he wouldn’t fail her again. Wouldn’t fail her like all the times he had seen Joffery roughly grab her wrists, or slam her into walls. The girl may not have realized what was going on but Sandor had, and yet he had never stopped it. In those moments Sansa would always sing prettily, chirping whatever the little dick wanted to hear. ‘Save yourself some pain girl...’By the looks of her face, that hadn’t worked so well recently. It had taken everything Sandor had not to leave the snivelling rat frozen in the hallway. 

When he had finally emerged from the stairwell he had seen the flash of red hair disappearing down the hall as the little bird made a break for it. Sandor had been about to follow her when he’d seen Joff cowering in the corner. The coward was white as a sheet and apparently unable to move.   
“GET UP.” he’d ordered, “Get up NOW.” 

When the boy ignored him he had dragged him by collar. Sandor was effectively one handed but the little bird had downed a surprising number of geeks. Seems like there was a little wolf in the sheeps clothing. Emerging from the dorm he saw Sansa standing in front of his truck club outstretched and shaking. Her eyes were large with fear and she was covered in blood. Before he could yell a warning the geek was on her, snatching at her ankle and pulling her to the ground. Sandors heart had leapt into his throat but the girl was quicker, and stronger than he imagined. The kick she landed was enough. He saw the crawler go limp. Quickly traversing the distance between them Sandor had deposited the boy unceremoniously into the truck before doing a survey of Sansa. He had been so panicked with the thought of her being injured that he hadn’t realized how roughly he’d grasped her wrists. It was the girls turn to be scared, you’re hurting me, she had pleaded. How many times had he heard those words escape her pretty lips?   
‘You idiot. You’re no better than the boy. Pathetic’ 

Sandor checked the gas tank. Luckily he’d filled up just before the rest of the country went crazy. He estimated that they could get about 250 miles, putting them just beyond Red Bluff. He planned to head towards Oregon and then east. No sense in breaking down in the deserts of Nevada. Sandor glanced sidelong to the little bird in the passenger seat. He watched as her hands shook in her lap and silent tears fell down her cheeks. He wished desperately that he could comfort her but it was a concept foreign to him. However he could keep her alive, he would keep her alive no matter what it took. If D.C had been a simple option a day ago it was a mandate now. He would make it there not for Joff’s sake but for the little birds. The Lannister woman would bear her no love but one of the other snivelling aristocrats would recognize her and offer her safety. With a face like hers she was bound to inspire loyalty, the honorable kind or not. 

The roads were rough going. Cars clogged the road way, abandoned or wrecked. Everyone had tried to escape; to where though? Where in this new world was safe for those without a bunker? Sandor navigated as best he could. Where he could weave in and out he did but the majority of the drive was along the shoulder or over rough terrain. He had always had a soft spot for his truck, he’d even named it, The Stranger. However he had a whole new appreciation for it now as they fled the city. Sandors dad had always told him that death was a stranger that came for all of them. Unfortunately for the retired marine, his son Gregor was not a stranger.

“They were people.” The little birds voice was so quiet Sandor hardly heard her.  
“What’s that little bird?”  
“They were people... I... I murdered them.”  
“The zombies? Thats not murder. Besides killing is the sweetest thing there is.”  
“Thats awful!” 

Her shock amused Sandor. Of course she wouldn’t understand. Killing for Sandor was a job. He had only done it when necessary but he had savored the finality and concrete nature of the act. Only one person was going to come out of the exchange and Sandor had never cared who it was, himself or his opponent. In the end fate chose and there was no grey area. 

Sandor laughed coldly, “I am an awful man Sansa, best you remember that. It may be what keeps you alive.”  
“Quiet dog, can’t you see you’re scaring the lady.” Joffery added sarcastically from the back seat.   
“You won’t hurt me.” Sansa muttered again.  
“Your right. I won’t hurt you.” Sandor whispered in reply. 

Joff seemed to ignore the exchange. “Quit crying you little bitch. I can’t stand the snivelling. You’ll have to have thicker skin than that if you don’t want us to leave you on the side of the road.” Snorting derisively he turned back to the window. 

It was Sandor’s turn to snort. “Aye, thick skin. A lot of courage you showed wetting your pants in the hallway. You’ll have to grow a pair if you don’t want me to feed you to the damned walkers.” Glancing again at the little bird he saw a small smile tug at the corner of her lips. He continued, encouraged, “The girl made a break on her own, seems like if we are talking about skin you should check the yellow on your belly.” Sansa giggled. 

Quickly Joffery reached from the back seat and grasped Sansa’s chin. Unkindly he snapped her to face him. “You think that’s funny do you!?” His hand raised to strike but before he could Sandor slammed on the brakes and threw the truck into park. Joff was thrown off balance, slamming into the back of the passenger seat. Sandor was out of the car and dragging him into the daylight before Sansa could even react. 

“What did I tell you, you little cunt. She’s not your plaything anymore. You need a punching bag, go ahead. I dare you.” 

The boys eyes were wide with shock. “My mother will hear about this.”

“You had better hope so.” Sandor replied eyes narrowed, “You’ll be lucky to make it that far with behavior like this.” Dropping the boy to the ground he opened the back door again and watched as he sulkily climbed in. As he eased the car out of park and back into drive he heard the little bird say thank you. When he looked over he saw that she was looking him in the eye. 

‘It’s a start’ he thought to himself.   
__________________________________________________________________________

Sansa couldn’t say how long she had been asleep but she woke with a start when the truck lurched to a stop. 

“Stay here,” Sandor growled, “I don’t like the look of this.”

Up ahead a barricade of cars stretched across the road. It was too perfect a line to have been accidental. Immediately Sansa realized that they were dealing with people, not zombies. She couldn’t determine which one she feared more. If the end of the world had changed Joffery so much, surely it had done so to others. 

Sansa watched, heart fluttering, as Sandor exited the car and checked the handgun strapped to his hip. Slowly he crept towards the line of cars. Sandor made it five hundred yards from the truck when two men rushed from the tree line, tackling him to the ground. Sansa gasped as she watched one place a rag over Sandor’s mouth. Before she could fully process the horror in front of her strong arms were pulling her from the truck. She kicked and screamed but her resistance was put to an end as the world faded to black.   
__________

When Sansa awoke she could smell a bonfire and feel the duct tape around her wrists. It was cold and she took in that fact that her long sleeved tee shirt had been removed. When her eyes finally focused; blurred images revealed a nightmarish scene. Joff was bound beside her, ankles and wrists taped together like hers. Across the fire Sandor was bound with his wrist behind him, wrapped around a tree. Joff was still unconscious but Sandor was awake, wild eyed. This time it wasn’t fear she saw there, only hatred and rage far surpassing the anger that normally boiled beneath their surface. 

“Looks like the little lady has finally decided to join the party, boys” The unfamiliar voice came from her left. Twisting to get a better view Sansa glimpsed an old man, bearded and dirty. 

“How lucky for us.” said a voice belonging to a bug eyed man just behind the first. His emaciated body and constant twitching betrayed years of drug abuse. Sansa writhed away as the two men approached followed by several more. 

“Oh don’t be scared honey. We just want a little taste, and at least we ain’t biters.”

The twitchy man gripped her blouse tearing thin fabric and revealing her bra. Sansa tried desperately to wiggle free but the rest of the group had descended on her. 

“No, please... please don’t. DON’T!” She screamed as the men pawed her. The bearded man’s face hovered closer and closer to her own, lust evident in the way he licked his lips. Suddenly his eyes went wide. Sansa was barely able to roll out from beneath him when she saw the blade run through his neck. The rest of the group was in equal shock. The hound had freed himself and was laughing maliciously as he withdrew the knife from the first man. Twitch was the next to go, the knife sliding sickeningly across his throat. One more man lunged forward but Sandor twisted away, grasping him by the back of the head and driving his face into the nearest tree. 

“SANDOR WATCH OUT” Sansa screamed as she watched the final man cock his shotgun. Before he could squeeze the trigger Sandor kicked out his legs. Descending upon him, Sandor grasped his face breaking his neck in one quick jerk. 

“Should have checked my sleeves, idiots” Sandor spat. Standing up he strode towards Sansa. Knife in hand, he knelt before her. Sansa face must have betrayed her terror because Sandor dropped the weapon to his side. Reaching his hands above him in surrender he said, “Its okay little bird. You’re safe now.” Sansa relaxed allowing Sandor to cut her bindings. He offered her his hand which she gratefully accepted, getting to her feet. “Here little bird” he growled, thrusting his jacket her way. Knees shaking she took its gratefully, wrapping it around her body. It was worn leather and much too big but she had never felt anything so wonderful. Sansa watched as Sandor freed Joff, then set to scavenging the camp site. The boy rubbed his wrists, glancing disdainfully at Sansa. Approaching he glanced back at Sandor, making sure he wasn’t looking before he whispered menacingly in her ear, “Too bad. That would have been a good show.” His eyes glided over her body, dwelling briefly on her breasts. 

Sansa wretched for the second time that day.


	5. Booby Traps (Sandor)

Booby Traps: Sandor

Sandor had been livid before they threatened to touch his little bird. When the buggers descended on her the world had turned red. Sandor always kept a blade up his sleeve, and it was lucky the bastards hadn’t thought to check him thoroughly. 

The carnage he had left was nothing in comparison to what he wanted to do. In the end he’d tended to Sansa, trying to not stare at her perfect chest. Stewing on the fact that these vultures had touched the girl he’d promised to protect, he had to fight the urge to chop the assholes into pieces after scavenging their campsite. Lucky for him they were well stocked. It looked like they had decided to take a stand here, they had water, canned food, and sleeping bags. They even had bullets and a couple guns, the best of which was the break action sawed off shotgun that must have belonged to the bearded leader. The real prize though was an aluminum baseball bat. This he tossed to the little bird. 

“Here take this. It will make you have to get a bit closer but it will pack a better punch than the driver. Its also less likely to snap with repeated use.”

Still shaking, the girl managed to catch the bat in mid air. Wide eyed she surveyed the dried blood already caking the top. Sandor was so wrapped up in watching the girl, absurd and beautiful in his coat, he nearly missed the snivelling jerk pull a classic double barrelled break action rifle out for behind a tree.

“She can keep the baseball bat, this is mine.”

The last thing Sandor wanted was for Joff to be armed. However now was not the time to fight him. The fire had been a foolhardy idea on the part of their attackers; geeks were bound to see it and close in. Stamping it out, Sandor divided the rations between the three of them and they made their way back towards the road.   
___________

Back at the truck Sandor stashed the new rations in the locked bin attached to the bed of the truck and unrolled the sleeping bags in front of that. Mercifully the weather was still warm, the bags would do for the night chill, but Sandor worried what it would look like when winter descended upon them. After he deposited the new guns and ammunition in the gun rack he’d rigged up in the back window of the cab, he turned back in time to see Joff pull away from Sansa’s ear. Whatever the boy had said, the blood had drained completely from her face. The tension snapped within in and before he knew it he had the boy by the throat. Hoisting him in the air, the little rats face turned beat red and then slowly purple. Reality flooded back when he felt Sansa’s tiny fists beating on his chest, and her voice pleading with him to stop. He dropped the boy to the ground. Stomaching his remaining rage he moved on with plans for the night.

“We’ll take turns keeping watch. I’ll take first watch.”  
“I want a fire” the snivelling jerk whined from the ground.

‘Does he really think I wont snap his neck?’ Clenching and unclenching his fist Sandor decided not to smash the boys face in. Instead he squatted bringing his face nose to nose with Joffs. “I dont give a flying rats fuck what you want.” The staring contest began to weaken his resolve to keep the boys nose intact. 

“Here” the little bird chirped timidly, drawing him back to reality. Despite the blush on her cheeks she looked him in the eye for the second time that day as she tried to give him back his jacket. Her arm crossed over her chest Sandor realized the boy was staring. “Keep it girl, I’ll find you something else to wear in the morning.” Sansa face melted with relief. She wrapped herself once more in the jacket. Sandor had already planned to search the cars on the road, but now he’d add some clothing for the little bird to his list. 

Wriggling out from his position pinned between Sandor and the truck, Joff climbed into the bed and Sansa was about to follow when Sandor saw his opportunity. Wrapping his large hands around her small waist he lifted her easily into the truck, following suit and closing the liftgate behind him. As his charges settled into their respective sleeping bags, Sandor settled against the gate prepared for a long watch. 

The night was dark and full of terrors. Sandor continually heard the groans and occasionally saw the shambling movement of a walker in the distance. In the dark and quiet they seemed not to notice them so Sandor saved his energy. No use firing a shot and bringing the lot of them down upon them. ‘Looks like the freeways become a grave site’ he thought. The further they got from the city, the less populated that graveyard would be. Sandor understood the realities of a siege. The cities had been overrun and the masses trying to escape would not have been immune. However once the herd had exhausted the large source of human flesh, turning its food source into another hungry walker, they would thin out in search of more consumables. The cars would also thin out the father they got from the infected zone. Fewer people were apt to have made it the more distance they travelled. As the night drifted on Sandors eyes became heavier. The little bird looked too peaceful to disturb so in the end he kicked Joff. 

“Wake up, Its your turn. Don’t do anything stupid, if you see trouble wake me up.”

Rolling over Joff wiped the sleep from his eyes, he looked like he was about to whine until he grabbed the rifle he’d found. ‘If the damn gun keeps him quiet he can have it’. Sandor rolled into the sleeping bag gratefully. The boy took up his post and seemed contented. Just before sleep consumed him Sandor fought the urge to run a thumb over Sansa’s pouted lips.   
__________

The blast of a shotgun woke Sandor with a start. In second he was up, reaching for the hand gun at his side. As he gained his bearings he saw Joff standing rifle in the air. A single shambling zombie making its way towards the truck.

“YOU IDIOT” Sandor raged grabbing the gun out of the boys hand. “You’re going to bring a herd this way. You think these cars aren’t full of the dead!? Why do you think its a goddamned maze on the blacktop in the first place!?”

“Sandor!?” the little birds voice broke in urgently, “Sandor look at the trees.” 

Sure enough the geeks were massing. In small waves they began to pour from the tree line and appear between the cars. “Sansa, get in the truck. NOW” The girl hopped from the bed and obeyed immediately. 

The bed rocked momentarily and Sandor looked up expecting the first wave to have reached the car. Instead he saw the blonde jerk, shotgun once again in hand, taking aim. Blasts of the gun were punctuated by the assholes laughter.

“What a bitch you are, dog. Look at them, a bunch of drunks. What are you even scared of.”

“Get into the truck, boy. They may not be dangerous alone but they hunt more like a pack then you could imagine. Don't be an idiot”

Joff merely snorted his derision. Advancing he fired another shot. Distracted by the sound the walkers headed for Joff. 

Sandor hopped from the bed. He did not relish running head long into a pack of zombies to rescue the boy but before he could decide he heard the door to the truck open and close. Spinning around he saw the little bird standing with the bat ready to swing. 

“I want to help. What do we do? Why is he doing this!?” The panic rose in her voice with each syllable. 

Sandors heart leapt into his throat as he watched a walker descending quietly on his little bird. Without a second thought he pressed her to the truck, shielding her with his body while using the butt of his Berretta to cave in the monsters skull. Without turning back around he growled, “back into the truck now.” When he felt her move to comply he headed towards Joff. It was time to get out of here. Now. 

The idiot had advanced too far from the truck. He was trapped between cars and geeks. Even in his final moments Joff didn’t realize the danger he was in. Sandor winced when the hands closed around the boys legs. A crawler beneath a nearby car sunk its teeth into the boys calf. That was it. Sandor could do nothing more. Returning to the truck he got into the drivers seat and turned the keys in the ignition.

“What about Joff!?” Sansa gasped looking about wildly, “SANDOR!? What about Joff where is he!?” 

He ignored her, fighting the urge to smack her. How could she still care for the bastard? Revving the engine Sandor plowed through the smallest car in the blockade ahead of him. When they broke free the little bird climbed into the back seat and cried as she watched her darling boyfriend being ripped to pieces.   
______________________________________________________________________________

The tension in the car was palpable. Between choking sobs Sansa caught glimpses of Sandor in the rearview mirror. His face was contorted and his eyes looked sad. How could all this be happening? She had hated Joff in the last weeks but she had loved him once. Surely no one deserved to end... like that. And now, now all she had was the brute in the drivers seat. Another round of sobs wracked her body. Suddenly the truck slowed to a stop.   
Confused, Sansa watched as Sandor placed the heels of his hands to his eyes. ‘Oh god, he hates me. He’s going to leave me here. Shut up you idiot. Stop crying.’ Wiping her eyes she prepared to beg, to apologize, to do anything. Slowly Sandor exited the vehicle, appearing at the back door and knocking to be let in. Unlocking the latch, Sansa opened the door. Before she could say anything Sandor interjected.

“Little bird...”, he reached for her before seeming to think better of it, “Please, you have to know I had no choice. I told him to stop... he kept going.”

“I know, I know..” she responded miserably, pausing briefly to stop the tears welling in her eyes, “Its just. He loved me, I know he did and then everything changed. The world ended and I just kept thinking that he would stop. He would become himself again...He would love...”

Before she could finish rage flashed across Sandors face, reaching towards her again he instead grabbed the head rest, knuckles turning white. “YOU THINK HE LOVED YOU SANSA!? You think all those times that he hurt you when you displeased him were extraordinary events? You want to hear what he did to his last girlfriend!? He was a monster Sansa, always was. THE DAMNED CHILD DROWNED A PUPPY AS A BOY.” His voice vacillated between shouting and a menacing hiss. Terrified Sansa began to cry again, “I really am as stupid as he said I was.” 

As quickly as it had come, the rage subsided in his eyes, replaced by what Sansa could have sworn was compunction. This time he did reach for her, his hand gently stroking her hair before making its way to her face. “Little bird...I’m...” his voice was soft as he hesitated, “That was unkind. I tried to go for him, I tried to stop him but when it came to saving you or him...It wasn’t even a choice.”

His words didn’t register immediately. Looking up in confusion Sansa searched his eyes for their meaning. He saved you. He made a choice, between you and the boy he’s known for years, and he chose you. Sansa felt sorry, shocked, and sad all in the same moment. Before she could react his hand was gone from her cheek. The lack of its warmth creating a void in her stomach. Shaking his head he got back into the car, and started the engine. As the car slowly rocked back and forth Sansa tried to untangle the mess of her thoughts.


	6. Reconnoissance

Reconnaissance

Sandors heart had been beating out of his chest, his hand had reached for the girl almost of its own volition. He had wanted so badly to take her in his arms and stop the tears but then she had been crying about the jerk. His anger had boiled over in record time, and his regret had simmered in much the same manner. ‘The girl just lost the one remnant of normalcy. He was the last person from her life before the world ended. Of course she is going to hold on to that memory, rose colored glasses or no.’ Again the need to hold her drove his hand to reach for her. He stroked her hair; he loved her hair. Auburn and beautiful it suited her well, framing her pretty face and graceful neck. ‘I would love to kiss that neck’ The look of fear of Sansa face when he had laid his hand on her was heartbreaking. He knew she would never love him, but he didn’t need the constant reminders. In the end the girl had stopped crying and Sandor had continued driving. 

The problem now was where to go. Joff had been their guaranteed ticket into that bunker. Without him... Well Sandor wasn’t getting in. He made up his mind quickly, Sansa still had a chance and so they were going to take it. Driving was slow going on the clogged roadways and so before he knew it the day was fading. The headlights would only ensure unwanted attention and so it was time to make camp. When he came to a small clearing among the cars he killed the engine. Sansa had fallen asleep in the backseat and so he locked the cab behind him when he went to check the bed. Much to his chagrin Sandor found that the two sleeping bags from the previous night were gone. In the chaos he had forgotten to tie them down. As he rummaged through the rest of the supplies for dinner he found a blanket. ‘Won't be much but it will keep the girl warm’. Throwing the blanket over his shoulder he landed on a can of beans and turned back to the car. 

Sandor stood for a minute admiring the little bird, so peaceful in her sleep. She looked so small wrapped in his jacket. His jacket, the girl still did not have an untorn shirt he realized. On the floor of the truck he found the backpack he had packed in the dorm. If he remembered correctly there was a shirt that should fit the girl and not remind her of Joff. He had almost forgotten that he had lent the boy the shirt in the first place. Joff had often crashed on Sandors couch after a night of heavy drinking. He had taken the shirt in the morning to meet Sansa, couldn’t let her know he’d been out all night by wearing the same clothes. Holding it up Sandor inspected the baseball tee. It was from his elementary school team. His sister had attended all of those games, maybe thats why he had kept the shirt all those years. Happier memories. ‘Best to not dwell on those’ The tee would fit the girl well enough, Gods knew he was monstrous for his age even then. Gently, he shook the girl awake. Drowsy with sleep she slowly gained her bearings. 

“Are we camping here?” 

“Yes little bird. Ive got a shirt for you. It was mine a long time ago, but it should fit you now.”

If the girl remembered Joff wearing the shirt she didn’t let on. She accepted the clothing and thanked him quietly. She met his eyes and blushed. “Would you turn around for a second please?” she asked, polite as ever.

Sandor turned, back to the door, fighting the urge to take a peek. After a second her little hand tapped his shoulder. “You can turn around now.”   
The shirt, his shirt, fit her well. It didn’t swallow her like his jacket which she extended to him now. 

“Thank you.” she said, blushing again. It seemed to Sandor those were the only words she could bear to exchange with him. He grunted, about to turn away when she reached for him. Her hand touched lightly on his forearm. “Im... i’m sorry for before. I know you didnt want... that. I'm grateful that you...chose me.” Whether they were empty courtesies or truths Sandor didn't care. He abhorred liars but he loved his little birds mouth. Those lips could say anything and Sandor would accept it blindly. Unconsciously he licked his lips. Her blue eyes searched his face, with an innocence so plain it broke his heart. ‘A world like this is not meant for a girl like her.’

He spoke more gruffly than he intended, “Never mind it girl, are you hungry?” She nodded slowly, eyes downcast revealing thick lashes. ‘I’m hungry too, but its not food i’d devour’ he thought taking her in hungrily. “Good. I’ve got beans, best I can do for now and we will have to eat them cold. Too late to chance a fire, especially here in the open.” The girl accepted this information and stared at Sandor, almost as if she were awaiting instructions. “We can eat in the cab if you’d like” Sandor stated. Sansa nodded again, moving over to make room for him. Sandor climbed in clumsily and locked the door behind him. ‘Eating... not exactly what I’d like to be doing in the backseat with her.’ Sandor instead took the opportunity to sit closer than necessary. Pulling the can opener out of his pocket he opened the beans, offering them to Sansa along with a spoon he’d retrieved from his pack. “Ill have whatever you don’t want. If you want it all, its yours.” 

“I cant do that. We can split it.”

Polite, beautiful, perfect. 

Awkward and quiet the pair shared split spoonfuls from the can, passing it back and forth between them. When the last spoon was eaten Sandor offered Sansa the juice, which she declined. “Suit yourself” he stated, downing the tasty brown sludge from the can. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he looked to the girl. When they made eye contact she giggled. “What?” he demanded. She giggled harder. Sandor could feel the drip down his nose. He knew he must look ridiculous but he savored the girls laughter. Anything to break the tension in the car. 

“WHAT?” he demanded again, trying to contain a grin. Smiling never looked good on Sandor and so he avoided it. 

“Its nothing” she snorted, “you just have a little something on your face.” She dissolved into a fit of laughter. 

“Where is it little bird” he growled. Breathing in she stifled her laughter, and reached up, swiping her finger over his nose. His face must have betrayed his shock at the touch because the girls hand froze in midair, her eyes wide but locked on his. Before he could stop himself he’d grasped her wrist, bringing it to his lips. He planted a series of small kisses there, never breaking eye contact with the girl. “Little bird” he breathed, his voice a harsh rasp. Slowly he released her wrist, but not her eyes. The girls face was flushed and her breathing rapid.   
______________________________________________________________________________  
He’d kissed her. Sansa felt frozen and utterly melted. None of Joffery’s kisses had set butterflies free in her stomach like this. He’d also never scared her quite like this. Alone at the end of the world she was completely at the mercy of the hulking man beside her. 

“Little bird”

No one had ever given Sansa a nickname, and now Sandor, the gruff body guard, had taken to calling her little bird. He had never addressed her before, ignoring her when he trailed her dates with Joffery and now in the last few days he’d given her an incomprehensible pet name. Suddenly realization dawned on his face, and he dropped her wrist, muttering what Sansa thought must be an apology. He climbed from the cab and Sansa again felt the sinking emptiness in her stomach. ‘What is wrong with me?’ Sansa could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she followed him out. She couldn’t just sit in the cab, they were going to have to set up for the night and she would have to take a turn at watch, she grabbed the baseball bat before closing the door behind herself. 

Sandor had already climbed into the bed of the truck, as she approached he reached his hand out to help her in. She took it gratefully, climbing up among the supplies. Standing awkwardly she watched as Sandor closed the lift, turning back to her with confusion and embarrassment as apparent in his eyes and she was sure was revealed in her own. 

“I can take the first watch” she offered hesitantly, eyeing the arsenal on the trucks gun rack through the window to the cab with increasing anxiety.  
“Its ok little bird, you won’t need a gun. That bat will do fine in a pinch.” He handed her the blanket and settled against the wall of the bed. “Besides you can wake me up if you think any of these geeks get too close.” 

“Ok,” she replied remaining standing, “You can keep the blanket...”

Sandor laughed, not unkindly. “Keep it girl, this old jacket has done me good this far.” 

Finally Sansa felt less uneasy, the tension ebbing for the time being. She settled in next to him, gratefully wrapping herself in the blanket. The pair sat in silence for a long time, watching the light of day fading into night. The quiet stretched between them, creating a void in which Sansa’s own thoughts screamed; a building cacophony of her own confusion. When she could stand it no longer she asked quietly, “Why do you call me little bird?” She studied her fingers in her lap, trying desperately to hide the shade or red her cheeks had taken to recently. 

Sandors snort was mirthless. “I call you little bird because you were constantly chirping for the boys benefit. A song bird in a gilded cage, repeating what others wanted to hear.”

Sansa was silent, hurt and ashamed. “And...” his voice continued in the growing darkness, “because you are beautiful and innocent.” His hand gripped her chin, drawing her to face him. For a second Sansa believed he meant to kiss her, she closed her eyes waiting.

“Still can’t bear to look can you?” Sandor dropped her chin with a snarl, “Why don’t you sing me a song little bird?” 

Confused Sansa began to quietly sing a hymn from her childhood, a remnant of her mother’s Christian upbringing. Sandor laid himself down in the truck, hands behind his head and seemed to drift off to sleep. Alone, Sansa studied him in the darkness, this fierce enigma of a man she found herself with. Settling in to keep watch she wondered what was more concerning, his presence or the emotions he provoked in the pit of her stomach. Ice and fire, warmth and fear.   
____________________________________________________________________________

Sandor woke with a start when the little bird tapped his shoulder. Sitting up he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tried to stifle the insistent need brought on by his dream. He checked the gun at his hip, took the bat from the girl, and settled in to take his turn at watch. Sansa looked grateful, eyes heavy. She wrapped the blanket more tightly around herself, trying to hide her shaking. ‘Of course she is cold, slight as she is... she isn’t going to enjoy this but it will help her sleep’ he reasoned, reaching for her before she could scoot away. Tucking her beneath his arm he felt her tense. “Don’t worry girl I won’t do anything, but you will be warmer if you decide to stay here.” Sandor waited, the choice was the girl’s he wouldn’t hold her against her will. Slowly he felt the tension ease from her body and before long her breathing slowed to the rhythm of sleep. In her sleep she nuzzled into him, her little hand gripping and releasing his shirt. Once in the night when he shifted to ease the tension in his lower back she mewled in displeasure, drawing herself closer. ‘Gods, this was better than any dream.’

In his dreams Sansa Stark always came to him willingly. Her tiny body fitting perfectly beneath his own. Her hair was always a fire, the only fire Sandor didn’t fear. Quite the contrary he buried himself within it, letting the flames consume him. Her scent was intoxicating, and her cries were always of his name. Sandor, Sandor, Sandor....

“No... please... dont! DONT!” the girl was crying, gripping at him. ‘A nightmare...’ Sandor was about to wake her when she cried out once more, “No... please... NO, SANDOR!” 

‘So she dreams of you too. Idiot, of course hers would be nightmares’ Sandor was furious, though if it was with the girl or his own foolish hope he couldn’t say. Disentangling himself from Sansa he let her drop to the bed of the truck. She sat up with a jerk, confusion plain on her face as she got her bearings. 

“I was having a nightmare” She confessed.

“Sure were, about me it seems.” He snarled, anger rising in his voice.

“What!?” she replied incredulous, “No... Was I talking in my sleep?” 

Sandor ignored her. Slowly Sansa crept to him, kneeling in front of him and placing her hands on his chest. “Sandor I was calling for you... you, you saved me. Before when those men tried to hurt me, and the walker, and Joff... you keep saving me.”

Numb, Sandor didn’t reply. Crestfallen, the girl made to move away. Before she could he drew her back to him, settling her between his legs. Back to him, her body was not tense as it was before. “Go back to sleep girl, its several hours still until the sun comes up.” He wrapped his arms around her, waiting for the tensing that never came. Again her breathing slowed.


	7. Slow Progress

Slow Progress

Sansa trusted Sandor. In world of uncertainties, she couldn't bring herself to question this one simple truth. Maybe it was the fact that his eyes, when not filled with rage or fear, were the same grey as her fathers. He was equal parts reassuring and kind; with her. Sansa could tell though that Sandor deeply mistrusted the rest of the world, even before it ended. 

Sansa had spent every night for a week wrapped in Sandors arms. They had never discussed the arrangement, instead they clambered into the bed of the truck each night and he simply opened his arms. It was shocking how at ease she felt sliding in close to him; how well she fit. He never touched her, not like that. He never hurt her either. He simply shared his warmth and protection and for that Sansa was grateful. 

Days were much more complicated. Each day they drove brought the reality of the new world into sharper focus. Cars and walkers thinned each time they distanced themselves from densely populated areas; but in small groups it wasn't the walkers that scared Sansa anymore. Instead it was the living whom she now feared. Each time they would come upon a lone person, or a band of survivors she couldn't help but remember the hot breath of the men who had assaulted her. Sandor seemed equally wary, choosing to avoid when he could and to be brief when he couldn’t. Trade wasn't a necessity with the supplies they had gathered, information didn’t seem to interest him either. He seemed to have a plan, one that Sansa was slowly beginning to realize she knew nothing about. 

“Sandor?”

“Yes, little bird?”

“Where are we going… I mean, I know we were going to D.C… but now…”

“We are still going to D.C”

“You think that we will still be safe, without Joff? Cersei will be heartbroken. Do you think she will still let us in?”

“The Lannisters don’t control everything. And there is no us, no we. I am taking you to D.C, where one of your fathers friends will keep you safe.”

“What do you mean!? Where will you go!?” Unbidden, a sense of panic began to surge through her. He couldn't leave her!

Sensing her fright, Sandor stopped the car, turning in his seat to appraise her. His grey eyes were cool and calm, clearly this plan had already been decided on, without Sansa. Before he could speak she lunged for him, wrapping her small arms around his neck. The gesture wasn’t an entirely innocent one. Sansa was aware, if only in a small sense, of the effect she had on men. She had seen the way Joff and his fraternity brothers had eyed her. Sandor may not want her, but maybe she could make him stay. 

“Please” she breathed into his neck. He was so solid, so reassuring. How could he possibly think he could just dump her into the lions den. She didn’t know the senators hiding in that bunker, but she felt like she knew Sandor in a weird way. “What would you do? Where would you go?”

His hand stroked her hair, before becoming still; a single lock between his fingers. 

“They aren’t going to let me waltz in there without the boy. It doesn't matter anyway, all that matters is that you will be safest there. I've made it on my own for a long time. Who knows, maybe i'll go look for my brother. Gods know he would thrive in this new hell.” 

“Please”, she repeated, “I don’t know them. I don’t want you to be on your own. We could go find my dad. My mom is at my grandparents farm, he probably went there”

Suddenly Sandor was stiff, pulling away. His hands held her face in place, forcing her to look at him. “Sansa, your father was in New York.”  
Sansa couldn't comprehend the sudden concern she saw in his face. Her dad was safe in New York, he was with the national guard. Why did Sandor look so pained? “Yes…”, she responded cautiously. 

“Sansa, New York fell, early. That refugee camp was over run, just like they all were. You have to know that, it was the last thing they broadcasted before communications failed.”

The familiar bile rose at the back of her throat, tears welling in her eyes. He couldn't possibly be right, he must have misunderstood.

“Joffery ruined the TV when he was mad, we didn't watch the news. You have it wrong… my dad is… he couldn't be… Sandor.. please”

As the tears fell she held him, feeling the truth of his words in the strength of his embrace. He let her cry until she felt she had nothing left within her. “My mom… my grandparents didn't live near a big city. The rest of my family didn't go to the refugee camps, they had to have survived. Like us. We will go there. I can't lose anyone else today Sandor, please.”

“Ok, little bird. Ill keep you safe no matter what, I will get you to your mother.”  
Sansa knew it was true. 

That night they didn't camp in the bed of the truck. Sandor didn't ask Sansa to take a watch. Instead he held her tightly in the back seat, cradling her body to his own. 

Sansa dreamed of her father, beheaded by his honor. When she awoke her screams were stifled by Sandors harsh lips pressing upon her own.


	8. Slow Progress (Sandor)

Slow Progress

Sandor couldn’t have said what was more disconcerting, the looks the little bird had been casting his way since he’d told her of her fathers death or the slow march of the gas gauge toward empty. The truck thus far has been a savior, making their movement north and out of California relatively fast. He didn't relish the idea of asking the girl to go on foot, the progress would be tiring and much more dangerous, but Sandor feared they may not have a choice. He had tried to syphon gas from the cars he’d found along the highway graveyard but the return had been insignificant. A gallon here and there had kept them going but the cars were becoming more scarce. Glancing again at the guage he estimated that they had another 20 miles, which would hopefully land them just outside Alturas, and not too far from the state line. 

“Sandor,” Sansa’s voice cut in, “I um… I need some things…”

“What is it little bird? Are you hungry? There are granola bars in my b…”

“No” she cut in, “Its nothing like that, its um, I just… can we go to a grocery store or something? I just need to grab a couple things…”

“Out with it girl, you're not making any sense” Between the gas dwindling and this damned guessing game Sandor was developing a headache.

“I think I'm going to start my uh.. cycle”

Realization dawned slowly. “Jesus christ Sansa, are you on it… do you have anything?”

“No I should… I should have a few days, I just… we weren't exactly talking about packing when you came around. Im… Im sorry”

Growling, Sandor nodded. The girl should have had some bloody sense. Surely she knows when she is due, surely she knew they would be travelling. He wasn’t in the mood to go on some fools errand in an undoubtedly walker infested supermarket to grab some tampons. Glancing over he saw the deep blush welling in Sansa’s cheeks and the tears threatening to fall. 

“Its fine, we are going to be out of gas soon, hopefully near a small city. We will find something there”  
Silently she nodded. 

Sandor hadn't been too far off in his calculations of the distance The Stranger would take them before giving out. They would have to walk a mile to get to the city center where they could pick up the final necessities. If they were lucky they would find somewhere to shelter for the night. The state line was going to be a good two or three days walk from there, but at least Sandor knew of a cabin where they could rest after they crossed into Oregon.   
Sansa hadn't said a word since the previous exchange and she continued to avoid Sandors gaze now. ‘Oh well’ he thought, ‘Nothing, is better than those odd dreamy glances she had been giving me all morning. Too damn distracting for now’ And too hope inspiring. The last thing Sandor needed as they set out was to lose himself in the hope that the little bird might be coming around to him. Shaking his head he jumped from the cab and began to pack the backpacks they would need. 

The heavy provisions went into his pack; cans of beans, tuna, and a couple bags of rice. His backpacking sack was big and held what Sandor estimated was enough to last the two of them a month, if they rationed. The blanket he tried on top. In Sansa’s back he dropped a flashlight, radio, batteries, the last of the duct tape, and the first aid kit. Next was the waterbottle with the purifying filter. A Survival essential; Sandor had learned a healthy appreciated for clean water during his military training. In their extra clothing Sandor wrapped a series of knives, and boxes of ammunition. Once the bags were packed he selected a handgun and a rifle for himself, and grabbed Sansa’s bat. 

By now Sansa had joined him, leaning against the car and toeing quietly at the grass. 

“Look at me Sansa” He said.

She ignored him, glancing away instead.

Anger flared in him. This was not a time for games. 

“LOOK AT ME” he roared, grasping her chin between his fingers and unkindly drawing her to face him. “This isn't a leisurely stroll girl, this is going to be dangerous. No playing around, you need to pay attention to what's around you and stay near me. We are heading into town and there is a good chance that we will run into a fair number of the undead. If we get overwhelmed your god damned cycle will be the least of our concerns.”   
This time the tears did more than threaten. They spilled down her pretty face as she twisted free of his grasp.

“If you hate me so much, and think i'm so stupid, then why did you kiss me.” Her sentences were barely discernable through the sobbing but Sandor caught the last part. 

Her wrist. Sandor had crossed a line there, but surely she been kissed on the hand by the creeps that ran in Robert Baratheon's circle of friends. 

“SANDOR! YOU LOOK AT ME THIS TIME. You kissed me last night, IF YOU HATE ME WHY DID YOU KISS ME!?”

This time her words came through loud and clear, almost as crystal as the shock that surged through him. Without thought Sandor pinned her to the car, bringing his face within inches of hers.

“What are you talking about? I didn't kiss you girl, not last night. I shouldn't have kissed your wrist but I didn't kiss you.. not really.”  
This time it was Sansa’s turn to look shocked. “You did!” she wailed, tiny fists bunching in his shirt, “I had a nightmare and you kissed me. You have to remember.”

Sandor tried to control his breathing, tried to control the defensiveness of his confusion and the urge he felt to find a stiff drink. 

“Little bird, I would never forget kissing you. I didn't do it. I wouldn't have taken advantage of you like that. 

Sansa’s sobs gave way to sniffles, her eyes searching his. ‘How could she think the he kissed her, did she dream that he had?’ Before he could react Sansas lips were brushing the ruined side of his face, planting a chaste kiss dangerously close to his mouth. His heart beat like mad and the urge to draw her flush to himself and kiss her as he wanted too was nearly overwhelming. In the end Sandor turned away, grabbing Sansa back pack and handing it to her. He couldn't deal with any of this right now, not in the open when they were so vulnerable.   
“We need to get moving girl, we need to be holed up somewhere before it gets dark.”   
_____________________________________________________________________________

As they walked side by side in silence Sansa tried desperately to keep her thoughts from wandering. She needed to concentrate on watching the tree line, the cars, the world around her for danger, but she couldn't focus. Had she really dreamed that he kissed her? How could she have been so wrong? She had thought he wanted her, that he liked her. He didn't even react when she kissed him. The disappointment of that fact weighed heavy on her; a truth at once confusing and saddening.

They walked for twenty minutes before they finally spotted a run down Fresh & Easy. 

“Ok little bird” His voice felt distant. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him in her embarrassment. “I'm guessing they will have what you need in there. I know we haven't seen many people alive or dead but there would have been a run on supplies. A lot of people could have gotten caught up in there and so I need you to pay attention.”  
______________________________________________________________________________

The store was eerie and dark. Sandor wanted nothing more than to get in and out, and to not have to talk about tampons for a very, very long time. As loathe as he had been to allow for the flashlight he had understood the little birds fear, read it plain in her face as soon as she realized they would be walking into the middle of the pitch black maze of aisles to find what she needed. The going was slow, each of them careful to pick their way through the debris with care and to check the next aisle before entering. When they finally reached the feminine care products Sandor turned his back to keep watch as Sansa filled her pack. He was just beggining to contemplate whether they would find any Jack Daniels left when he heard the familiar groaning all to close. 

What happened next was a blur. Sansa screamed as the walker grasped her wrist, pulling her into the shelves. Quickly Sandor wrenched her free as the rest of the damned zombies in the store crawled out of the woodwork. He had tossed her the bat before instructing her to run. As he opened fire on the undead closing in on the aisle the sparks from each blast shed light on just how much shit they were really in. Scooping down to grab the pack, he’d been about to make a break in the same direction the girl had gone. Suddenly he heard her scream his name, no where near the doors they had come in. In a blind panic he had torn through the aisles to get to her, opening fire as anything got too close. When he reached the doors to the stockroom he had been about to pull the trigger on another one when it yelled, “DON’T SHOOT, DON’T SHOOT! I’M ALIVE! THIS WAY.” 

When they entered the back room and the boy had barred the door behind them, Sandor grasped him by the collar. Lifting him from the floor he slammed him against the nearest wall. “WHERE IS SHE!?” He demanded before her voice came through, stopping the roiling in his stomach and the screaming of his senses. When he spun around she launched herself at him, wrapping her thin arms around his neck and burying her face in his cheek. Slowly he caught his breath.

Stroking her hair he pulled back, looking her over. “You're not hurt?”

“No, they just overwhelmed me, I tried to swing the bat like you said but there were too many I couldn't make it to the door. Jon saved me, he pulled me into here. Thats when I screamed. I thought he was a walker.”

Sandor appraised the boy. He was tall, with a serious face, grey eyes, and dark hair. He looked lean and was probably about Sansa’s age. His eyes were wary, betraying his unease at Sandors presence. ‘Smart boy’

Turning his attention back to Sansa he claimed her mouth with his own. He wasn't going to lose her again and if she dreamed about him kissing her than he was going to give her a real memory. Initially her stillness underscored her shock but eventually she gave a little mewl and opened her mouth to him, deepening the kiss. He would have stayed like that forever if the boy hadn’t cleared his throat. Pulling away he watched the adorable blush rise in Sansa cheek. Before he let her down he whispered in her ear, “You kissed me back little bird, I hope you know you won't be getting rid of me now.” The kiss she planted on his cheek told him everything he needed to know.

“If you two are done, we should probably get out of here.” The boy, pointed to the stock room door, bending against the weight of the undead pressing against it.


	9. Surrounded

Surrounded

Gathering tampons as the undead moaned around them and Sandor resolutely ignored her was a unique type of misery for Sansa. All she wanted was to stuff her bag and get out of there, maybe then she could unravel the knots growing in her stomach. 

Luckily the inhabitants of the town had been as unconcerned about mother nature as Sansa had been, leaving the feminine care aisle well stocked. Mindlessly she had stuffed her bag, reaching deeper and deeper into the shelf, clearing the boxes methodically. It was too late by the time she realized the groan was coming from the other aisle, the hand had already grasped her. Roughly the zombie on the other side of the shelves pulled on her, strangely strong in its fervor to devour her flesh, causing her to slam into the metal racks. In her fear she forgot the need to be quiet, the need to be calm. Her scream alerted Sandor who as always came to her rescue. 

When he freed her and gave her the bat she hardly needed more instructions. She made the same mad dash for the front doors, adrenaline pumping just as it had that day in the dorm. This time though the dead were too many, too aware in their hunger of the disturbance , the chaos indicating a feeding frenzy. As the massed in the aisles leading to the exit, Sansa had to act fast. ‘There has to be a stock room’ The thought was clear and definitive, without hesitation Sansa re-routed. She headed for the outside ring of the store, praying that her eyes would adjust to the darkness enough for her to spot the doors. In the end it hadn't mattered, the walkers had closed in behind her and when Sansa spun around the swing the bat a pair of hands had grasped her waist eliciting another scream. She had been about to scream Sandors name again when a hand had clamped over her mouth, dragging her backwards. 

“Shh, my names Jon, you’ll be safe in here.” 

In the dim light of the store room Sansa had taken a breath, attempting to calm the nerves and adrenaline enough to appraise her companion. The boy, Jon, was busy peering through the holes in the doors leading back into the store, he looked young, about her age and didn't seem to be too concerned with her presence. 

“You had someone with you? Right!?”

“Yeah… he… is he out there, can you see him!?”

Jon held his finger to his mouth, motioning for her to be quiet. Suddenly he spun on his heels and dashed back through the door.   
“DONT SHOOT, DONT SHOOT! IM ALIVE! THIS WAY” 

When Sandor came charging into the room his eyes were as wild as she had ever seen them. Before the poor boy could react he had him pinned to the wall, “WHERE IS SHE!?”

“SANDOR!” She cried, equal parts relief and joy welling up inside her.  
As soon as he turned she was tangling herself in his arms. Nothing else mattered except that he was ok. His hands tangled in her hair, stroking her scalp, sending shivers down her spine. He pulled back to check that she was ok and then it happened, for real this time. His lips on hers were not a phantom, not a figment of her imagination. Like the heat she felt pooling in her belly, this kiss was very real. Sansa was more than disappointed when Jon brought reality back into focus. She could feel the blush rising in her cheeks, the heat of it a stark contrast to the goosebumps she felt as Sandor leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Mine” was what she heard him say, ‘Yours’ she thought.  
__________________________________________________________________________

“They know we are in here and I don’t know how long this door is going to hold. We have to go.”

His tone did not betray fear, rather irritation. Sandor thought Jon was undoubtedly more experienced than the green boy he had initially judged him to be. Quickly he began to move about the stock room, gathering supplies and tossing them into a bag. Spurred to action Sandor joined him, it seemed at the moment their fates were linked. The time to question would be later, right now they needed to scavenge and flee. 

“What did you come here looking for? Do you have it?” He rasped. Jon regarded him coolly, appraising him in a way that Sandor recognized, respected. ‘Thats right boy, figure out if you can trust me’ 

“First aid, food, batteries. I dont know how much of it will be left but its worth a shot.”

Sandor joined in the search, Sansa keeping an eye on the buckling door. 

“Guys,” she shouted, “GUYS! We need to go now….”

It was then that the idea struck Sandor, moving quickly he toppled the nearest shelf to the door across the path. Surprisingly heavy, Sandor thought he had bought them some time.

“Ok…” The answer from Sansa and Jon was almost unanimous.

“What now?” He asked.   
______________________________________________________________________________

The brute and his girlfriend were an interesting road block. 

Jon had proven himself to be the best at ranging, slipping in and out of the ruins of over-run buildings gathering supplies for The Black Brothers. It was a task he relished, it made him feel as if he was truly contributing. 

Before the world had gone to shit he had been a steward, helping the sergeant-at-arms as he took care of the needs of the club. It was the sergeant who suggested that he infiltrate the Wildling MC, but neither of them had been able to foresee the consequences of that. Getting back into the club had been difficult, but his skill in this post-apocalyptic world certainly hadn't hurt. 

By toppling the shelves, the big guy had bought them some time. Jon took a second to appraise his surrounding. The remaining shelves were empty, he had hit this supermarket before and it was looking like he would have to find a new one next time. The issue now was determining whether the pair were safe enough to take back to the club. ‘Should have considered that before saving them’ Jon knew his impulsiveness was often at odds with his better judgement which in turn was overseen by his conscience. Right and wrong were often very black and white in his world and letting either the girl or her bodyguard be ripped apart had seemed an injustice. He was going to have to bring them back to the club, no one in this new world was in the business of refusing friends, safety was in numbers. 

“I've got all we are going to find here. The club isn't far from here. If we move quickly we should be able to make it to the wall before it gets dark. Its not safe to be out after that.” 

“We appreciate the help boy but we will be just fine on our own.”

“Look I don't like the arrangement anymore than you do. I have no idea who you are, and no idea what you are capable of. The reality is that you won't make it. The whole town is infested, the virus spread like wildfire around here. You won't make it out of town before dark and once that hits you won't be safe. We have a wall, a big one, its as safe as you are going to get if you come with me.”

“Sandor” the girl added quietly, “we can leave in the morning, please I don't want to be out in the open tonight.”

The look on Sandor’s face said it all. It was a look Jon knew, it was a sentiment he had felt deeply. He would do anything for that girl, and he knew it would be his downfall. It had been Jon’s. 

“Fine, but I promise you this boy,” Sandor spat, “if you try anything I will rip you limb from limb.”

“Great, lets go.” Jon swallowed the youthful temper boiling inside him. He was about to have bigger fish to fry once he tried to explain this to Slynt and Thorne. 

“Great.” Sandor agreed sarcastically. Jon noticed he had found a fifth of Jack, which he quietly tucked into the pocket of his backpack, watching the girl to ensure that she hadn't seen.


	10. Stalemate

Stalemate 

As far as Sandor could tell, Janos Slynt and Alliser Thorne were pricks of the highest order. 

The wall that Jon had mentioned was indeed impressive, large and looming. It separated Nights Watch Motorcycle Club from the zombie wasteland outside its gates. However when you looked close it was as old and crumbling as the leadership of the club. 

“How many times do I have to tell you, there is safety in numbers? She is just a girl, you really want me to turn them away? You really think that they will pose a threat if they stay or leave?”

Sandor thought he probably shouldn't be privy to this conversation but he would be damned if he allowed the fate of his little bird to be sealed without his knowledge. 

The kid had been right about their odds trying to go it alone tonight. The city was more overrun than Sandor thought possible, making it back from the grocery had been a trial. However Jon was good with the cross bow he’d brought and Sansa was shockingly powerful in her swing. Each time she wound up she connected, sending brains and blood everywhere. It was clear that she didn't relish it though, by the time they were safe inside the gate of the club she was shaking, looking ready to vomit. ‘Still can't stop thinking of their humanity’ he noted. Odd how different they were, Sandor hadn't believed in humanity even before the dead started walking and it seemed that Sansa clung to it. 

“Your new friends can stay for one night and then they are gone. I would start thinking about my dedication to this order if I were you, Lord Snow.”  
The vitriol dripping from Thornes words as he spat them at Jon was almost as acidic as the sneer pasted across Slynt face. Sandor wasn't in the mood to deal with any more assholes for the day, the dead were bad enough. 

“Thanks for the hospitality,” he rasped, sarcasm evident in his tone, “wouldn't dream of staying any longer though.”

With that he left the room. He needed to little bird, and he needed a stiff drink. Jon caught up with him as he strode down the hallways of the club toward the courtyard where he had left the little bird with a fat ‘brother’, or whatever these dicks called themselves. The chubby bastard had promised to get her some clothes to sleep in so she could wash the ones she was wearing. Sandor had been wary, but Sansa had touched his arm, eyes all ease and innocence. 

“Assholes.” Jons voice broke into his rumination.

“You said it kid.” 

“They have had an issue with me from the beginning, didn't think I was biker material, but its gotten worse. Mormont, the old boss, took me under his wing, since he died they've been trying to push me out.”

Sandor grunted, disinterested in the boy’s life story. As they exited the building he caught sight of Sansas auburn hair. She was dressed in loose fitting basketball shorts and a huge tee shirt. The thought of her in another mans clothes dropped a pit into his stomach. However she was doubled over a bucket clearly scrubbing something, probably his tee shirt. He knew how grateful she would be to have clean clothes so he decided to let it slide. Before he could cross the distance between them she shot him a smile that consumed him. ‘How long can this last?’ the voice in his head chided. ‘How long until she finds out you arent the knight in shining armour?’ The pit in his stomach turned to gnawing.  
_____________________________________________________________________

The prospect of a real bed, and a real nights sleep were more than Sansa had hoped for in a very long time. The idea of sharing it with Sandor, however, made her uneasy. She had loved his kiss, a memory that brought a smile to her lips even now as she chewed on the bottom one. However, even if they had spent the nights together before it wasn't like this. It wasn't in a bed, it wasn't in the safety of a room where they didn't have to worry about attack. It was a whole new arena and Sansa was nervous. Still, she would rather have his close than somewhere else, especially as she was surrounded by men that she didn't know. 

It seemed that Sandor shared her nerves. He had surveyed the room provided in the clubs large dormitory with evident trepidation. One look at the bed and he had immediately reached for his pack. Apparently he had found a bottle of whiskey at the grocery store. The prospect of his drinking further increased her anxiety. She had seen Sandor drunk once or twice before, and according to Joffrey it was a fairly regular occurrence for him. Sandor had seen her eying the bottle, and informed her that he would be going for a walk. Sansa had been alone in the room, worrying at her lip ever since. It was a long time before he came back and she had nearly been asleep. 

When he entered the room Sansa could smell it on him, see it in his stuttered gait. She was grateful when he didn't try to immediately climb into the bed. Instead he dropped into a chair near the door. Rolling to face him she studied his eyes. They looked empty, almost sad. Maybe this was why he drank. 

“Sandor...” she tried hesitantly, “Are you ok?”  
He snorted in reply. Bleary eyed he turned to face her, “I haven’t been ok in a long time little bird.”  
“I wish, I wish you wouldn’t drink…”

The speed with which he moved startled Sansa. Before she could react he was over her, his face inches from hers, fists bunched in the sheets around her head.

“You wish I would be the prince in this story, right? The gallant, the honorable man? No luck little bird.” 

Some instinct made her reach up to cup his cheek, his scarred flesh a novel sensation underneath her fingers. The anger melted from his face as quickly as it had appeared. He just looked weary. Ignoring her fears she scooted over, allowing room for him on the bed. ‘He wont hurt you’, the words repeated in her head. A reassuring chorus of the one certainty she felt in this brave new world. Sandor eyed her briefly, looking for confirmation before laying out beside her. He didnt reach for her, didnt grab at her. He simply laid there, a big man looking so much the child in this moment. Sansa rolled toward him, patiently waiting for whatever sins or terrors he felt he needed to confess. 

“Do you want to know how I got these scars?”  
She nodded.

“My brother was never anything more than a monster. As children he grew much bigger than my sister and I early on and he used it to his advantage. He used to beat us mercilessly for no reason. My dad never did anything about it, Gregor was bigger than him in time too. The first time it went too far, my sister was on the receiving end. She had tripped and skinned her knee during a game of tag. She was just a little girl, a baby really, and she cried like young ones do. Gregor didnt like that.” With each word the anger began to once again contort his features, the tension palpable in the room as if it were a steam rising off of him. 

“He began to beat her, really beat her. Eventually my dad and I were able to pull him off of her but it was too late, she was never the same. She had suffered such traumatic brain damage that she died three days later in the hospital. I loved her more than anything and I couldn't protect her. Of course my dad ignored the whole thing. Her death was chalked up to a bad spill off her bike, the investigation of my father by the social workers never turned up anything. Gregor was never even suspected, who thinks to look for evil in the face of a child? I ran away after that, joined the army at eighteen. I should have known that God wouldn't let me outrun my demons, outrun Gregor. He enlisted too, coincidence maybe, but we ended up in the same platoon. During a survival drill we had all settled in, made a fire, started to eat the rations. Gregor didn't want his, always too full of hatred and anger to need real sustenance. Well I was hungry so I reached for his rations. He didn't like that. He had me by the collar with my face in the flames before I really knew what was going on. Ill never forget the feeling of my flesh melting. Literally melting. I ended up in shock in the hospital, the army chalked the whole thing up to an accident. Tripped and fell was what the report said, a cruel joke if you ask me. I got an honorable discharge and a nasty drinking habit.” 

At this point he was crying. Sansa reached for him, pulling herself close and wrapping her arms around him. They laid like that for a long time.   
“I am not a good man, I am not honorable or kind but I will do my best to keep you alive. I wont fail you like I failed my sister. I kissed you and you kissed me and… I want you but I know I am not good for you. You deserve a prince, a knight in shining armour and I am not that. I couldn’t be even if I wanted. This is not a fairy tale little bird, this is a harsh reality, one I wish I could spare you from”

She held him tighter. Here they were two people alone as the world burned around them. She didnt want a prince, not anymore. She had thought Joffery was her knight; as beautiful as in any fairy tale he had ended up the villain. As they laid there intertwined Sansa began to hum an old song, one that reminded her of her mother. Catelyn had always been partial to Joni Mitchell, particularly “Cactus Tree”. Sansa couldnt remember all the lyrics but she knew the melody and the longing in Joni’s voice. 

“There’s a man who’s sent a letter/  
and he’s waiting for reply/  
He has asked her of her travels/  
since the day they said goodbye/  
He writes, “Wish you were beside me/  
we can make it if we try”

Shouting in the hallway broke into the haze of need and sorrow in the room.


	11. Coup D'etat

Coup D’etat

Janos slynt was an ugly man made uglier in death. The red smile spreading across his a neck a mockery of the grimace splayed across his face.  
Longclaw, Jon’s dagger, hung limply in his hand. The evidence of his exertion pooling on his brow, he stood stunned trying to gather his thoughts. ‘It was you or him…’   
Alliser Thorne appeared in the doorway, the smirk on his face replaced quickly with doubt. John raised the dagger to defend himself again as Thorne surveyed his friend, checking in futility for a pulse. 

“You get one chance to run, bastard…” he spat, “But I am going to find you. You will pay for this.” 

Jon didn’t need any more encouragement, he grabbed his pack and his bow and turned into the hallway. He found Sam in the library as he has expected. ‘Oh Sam, may the God’s give you courage…” 

His voice was sharp, betraying the urgency of the situation. His sudden intrusion caused Sam to jump, the color draining from his round face.   
“Jon…you’re covered in blood…” He tried to put some distance between himself and his sanguine friend, causing his chair to totter perilously.   
“Sam, you have to go now. Take Aemon, take Gilly and the baby and run. Go to the CDC, you may be our only shot. Be brave Sam.”  
“Jon this is nonsense… what, what is going on…”  
“Slynt tried to kill me and I slit his throat.”  
‘No use mincing words now’ he thought.   
“Thorne has wanted me out for a long time Sam and he is getting his wish. I can’t protect you if I am not here. You have to go. Tonight. In the confusion they wont notice you leaving. Take provisions and the truck, and go.”  
With that Jon turned on his heels and retreated back into the hallway.   
_____________________________________________________________________________

“An old song for an old dog little bird. “  
“I wish you wouldn't call yourself that. Dog. Joff used it to degrade you, I always hated that. I used to pray for you, you know. I prayed that the mother would gentle the rage I feared so much in your eyes.”  
Even in the dark Sandor knew that she was blushing, and that despite his disdain for the fallacy of faith she was being heartbreakingly honest. Her vulnerability was endearing.  
“I am sure you did little bird”, he muttered pulling her in close.  
“I wish you wouldn't drink…”  
‘I wish I didn’t need to’ came the response in his head. 

Shouting in the hallway broke into the haze of need and sorrow in the room. Sandor sat up, adrenaline dulling the effect of the liquor.   
“Get dressed little bird…” He motioned without taking his eyes off the door, “Pack up, I don’t like the sound of this.”   
The shifting weight on the bed told him that she had moved to comply. 

Sandor stood himself, checking his balance and for the presence of his gun. His own back was near the door. He moved to grab it in time to hear the rapid foot steps approaching. He turned to Sansa as she pulled her shirt, really his shirt, over her head. ‘As if my head wasn’t swimming already’ He placed his finger to his lips, a signal for her to be silent. She nodded, grabbing her bat and readying herself to swing. ‘Good girl’ he felt an odd surge of pride as he flattened himself against the wall nearest the door. When it burst open he pounced. He wrapped the intruder up pinning them to the bed.  
“CHRIST MAN! WE HAVE TO STOP DOING THIS”

It was the boy from earlier. Slowly, Sandor eased off. He was wary as the commotion around them increased audibly.  
“Look man, I am not welcome here anymore and my suggestion is that you come with me. We need to go now, I will explain later.”  
Sandor didn’t need another invitation to get out of this place. He didn’t like being surrounded by strangers and he liked his odds against one kid much better.   
“We’ll come but if you try anything funny you will regret it deeply”  
Jon nodded.   
__________________________________________

The clubs garage was a dilapidated as the rest of the grounds. It was large, indicating a past far more prosperous that their current state. Jon tossed him a set of keys and mounted his own bike, indicating the large one next to his.  
“Sure they won't miss these kid?”  
“It won't be their biggest grievance, I promise” Jon grimaced.   
‘Great’  
Sansa had been largely silent, worrying at her lips as she followed instructions. Sandor placed her in front of him on the bike; not a terribly practical way to ride but he wouldn’t have her exposed. Twisting back she eyed him anxiously. “What is it little bird?”  
“Can you… can you drive? You know with the… with the drinking” She winced as she completed her query. Subtly she flinched away from him. ‘Waiting for the strike Joff would have landed’ The question itself felt like a punch in his gut. Resolutely he made a mental promise to smash the bottle into a million pieces.   
“I can ride little bird, I promise. I won’t put you in danger.”  
Nodding, she accepted his answer and turned back around. 

Jon raised the garage door and looked back at Sandor.   
“I’ve trusted you this far kid. My turn. You follow me, ok?”  
Jon nodded.  
_______________________________________

They had ridden hard, the noise of the engines drawing the walking dead down on them. Luckily, they weren’t a fast bunch. The maneuverability of the bikes meant that they could largely avoid them as they left the city. A couple well placed head shots hadn't hurt either. Eventually, despite the noise, the herds had thinned out. 

Sandor led the way. He was heading for his cabin. A fair amount of paranoia and military training had taught him the value of a good supply line. It was secluded and well fortified. It would serve until he could decided on the next move for his little bird. However, they weren’t going to make it tonight. Eventually they found a clearing and made shelter surrounded by the bikes with an outcrop of rock behind them. Once they had eaten and the little bird was settled under his arm he decided the boy owed them an explanation. 

“He sent Slynt after me. He was going to murder me in my bed, I didn’t have a choice. Slynt hadn’t been the mastermind anyway, that type of cowardice had Thorne written all over it. He didn't like me,” Jon explained, “He thought I was a traitor.”

The boy explained the dynamic between the Black Brothers and Wildling MC. It sounded like some Romeo and Juliet bullshit when he explained that he had fallen for a girl from the rival motorcycle club.

“He thought that by choosing Ygritte I had broken my vows to the club. It was all absurd. The dead were rising from the grave and the man couldn’t let an old grudge die. We needed the Wildlings to survive. We needed to band together not fight amongst the living.”

Jon paused.   
The pain on his face told Sandor everything he needed to know. He understood the draw of a woman. Gods knew that if Sandor had to choose there was nothing that stood a chance against Sansa. 

Her voice was barely a whisper, “She didn’t make it did she? Ygritte…”  
“No. It came down to some bull shit battle over a few supplies and the wasteland of the apocalypse. It wasn’t the dead that got her, it was an arrow. Maybe mine… it was hard to tell in the chaos…”  
“Im sorry.” Sansa stated. 

“Its done. The business with Thorne started before that though, he never liked me. Used to call me Lord Snow.”  
Sandor snorted, causing Jon to scowl. 

“Look my dad… he was um… he was pretty important. He couldn’t be around much but he took care of me.”  
Sansa might not have noticed the side eyes the boy was giving her but Sandor did.   
‘Holy shit’, sandor thought, ‘It’s the honorable Eddard Stark's bastard in the flesh.’ 

Sandor had worked for the lannisters long enough to know everyones dirt. How the hell he ended up with the kid after the bloody apocalypse was the real mystery.   
Lost in thought Sandor hadn't noticed the painful silence around the fire. Realization dawned in Sansa’s eyes as Jon let the unsaid secret hang between them. Momentarily, she blanched.  
‘So the little bird isn't as naive as it seems’   
Quickly she contorted her face back into the mask that he had seen her wear many times on campus. ‘Always an armour of courtesy’  
Abruptly she crossed around the fire to jon.   
“Youre my dad… his… his son”  
Jon nodded. 

“You may be my only living family.” The statement felt more like a painful confession than an endearing revelation. “I am… Im glad you found us, or we found you… I’m glad we are together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has been a while since I have updated. I promise that I didn't abandon the story, I have just been in a funk. This was a difficult chapter to write and I didn't get near as far into the plot as I had wanted. I hope people are still reading!


	12. Supply Line

Supply Line 

The night had been dark and full of terrors. Every moan in the distance caused Sansa to shutter. She hadn’t been able to shake the gnawing feeling that Sandor, despite his vows to protect her, was no good to her, or himself if he kept drinking. Jon had volunteered for the first watch and Sandor had proceeded to promptly fall into a deep sleep. ‘Do your demons find you in your dreams?’ Sansa knew her own did. As she laid in his arms and stared at his face, as peaceful as she had ever seen it, she made up her mind. Gently she extracted herself from his embrace, noting that he reached for her missing warmth. His pack was at their feet and she could see the bottle protruding from a pocket along the side.   
Sansa knew Jon was tracking her movements. 

“He shouldn’t drink…” She stated into the darkness. Whether she was trying to convince herself or her half-brother she didn’t know.   
“Its too dangerous to not be in control. What if we were attacked and he wasn’t able to protect himself? What if I lost him?” Sansa could feel the tears hot on her cheek, “I have already lost too many people...” 

She pulled the bottle from his pack, tilting the amber liquid inside back and forth. Finally she brought herself to make eye contact across the fire. Jon’s face was placid. His dark eyes, so much like their fathers, took her in. 

“Maybe that is a decision he needs to make on his own…”  
___________________________________________________________________________

The bikes had proved to be an asset despite their noise. Sandor had dreaded the trek to the cabin on foot with the girl in tow. They were too vulnerable that way; exposed and slow. Being able to ride had cut the time drastically. They were able to move as fast or slow as the situation required and the boy had proven to be a good shot. However they were drawing attention that would eventually form a herd and he wasn’t willing to risk bringing that to his door. 

Sansa had insisted on riding behind him today. As helpful as her baseball bat had been he couldn’t help but feel an ache at the loss of an opportunity to be closer to her. He had to admit that her aim was good though as he heard the crack and saw the geek fall to their left. She had been swinging all day and as much as he wanted to protect her and hold her he was proud that she was showing a little more wolf spirit. 

Sandor stopped his bike, signaling for Jon to do the same. The boy pulled up next to him, keeping a wary eye on the bodies shambling around them.  
“My cabin isn’t too far from here. Maybe a couple miles up into those hills. We are going to have to hike it though. I don’t want the noise of the bikes bringing the walkers to my door.”  
Jon nodded in agreement, “Any plans? Even if we ditch the bikes those who have seen us are going to follow. The mob mentality is going to lead to a herd no matter what if we don’t distract them.”

Sandor had to admit he hadn’t considered that possibility.   
It was Sansa who spoke next, “Could we trip an alarm on one of the cars? The noise is going to distract a lot of them. The others we will just have to take care of on our own.” 

The road they had taken was far less congested than those they had encountered near Stanford but there still the odd car littered about.   
“We would need to set it off from a distance. Send the walkers there without drawing them down on us in the process. I would also like to keep the bikes if possible. We dont have to ride them but its not a bad idea to have them in a pinch.”

Sandor couldn't argue with the boys logic. The motorcycles had been useful and once he decided on their next move they may need them again. Sandor had always had a good sense of direction. He remembered little nuances along routes he used commonly and based on his markers he was fairly certain the cabin would was up in the hills on their left. He knew the woods around this place like the back of his hand. He had retreated here as often as the job allowed, preferring the solitude to human companionship. Motioning to a strand of trees behind them he spoke directly to Jon, “Head there. We will find good cover for the bikes far enough off the road that they won’t be stolen. After that we head north.”

“Fine” was his reply, “No shooting though. Once we trip that alarm I want our retreat to be silent.”  
Sandor growled. He was not in love with taking direction from this green boy.   
“Look the guns make a lot of noise. I have my bow and she has a bat. I have a dagger for you but you’d have to use it at fairly close range. The walkers aren’t fast and it seems like you are no stranger to weapons.”  
“I dont need your bloody butter knife boy,” Sandor practically hissed, “I have a knife of my own.”   
With that he drew out his knuckle duster from the sheath around his ankle. It was a bit showy but its blade was formidable and its weight familiar; the thing was practically an extension of his own hand. 

“Guys they are kind of closing in on us…”

Sansa was right, since they had stopped the few geeks around had seemed to multiply.   
Jon dismounted and Sandor held his bike steady to allow Sansa to do the same. He offered her his hand to steady her and she took it with a blush. ‘Never thought blushing could be such a bloody turn on’ he mused. Sandor was the last to climb off the bike. He pointed to the closest car as Jon loaded an arrow into his bow. 

“I am going to shoot the windows out of that car. If it has an alarm it will go off. Right now I want you two to head for the trees. Jon is going to have the bike Sansa, so you are going to have to help him as much as you can.” She nodded. Slinging the bow back over his shoulder, Jon motioned for the girl to follow. Hesitating, Sansa stood on her tip toes to give Sandor a kiss on the cheek.  
“Please be careful.”  
“I will little bird.” He muttered into her neck as he gave her a reassuring squeeze.   
He watched as Sansa caught up to Jon, cracking skulls as she went. 

It took one shot to blow out the cars window, the alarm sounding loud and clear as he had hoped. The walkers closest to the car shifted their interest just as they had hoped. However as he turned to retreat he saw that more than a few were still trained on him.  
______________________________________________________________________________

Jon was glad to hear that the alarm had tripped but he saw from the cover of the trees that the plan had not been perfect. ‘Managing the bike and that knife is not going to be an easy task’ Beside him Sansa was shifting her weight back and forth, betraying her mounting anxiety. As they watched, Sandor made his way towards them managing to place his knife skillfully into the brains of the walkers that approached. However the further he got from the car the fewer walkers were being distracted by the noise. Suddenly Sansa was moving forward, before she could get too far he caught her ankle, sending her crashing to the ground. 

“Don’t you dare. The last thing he wants is for you to go running out there.”  
“We have to help him Jon, please.” Her eyes were wild with panic.   
“Stay here.”

Jon moved closer in the underbrush, being careful to not draw attention to himself. He reached behind him, taking stock of the arrows he had left in his quiver. ‘Not many’ he lamented. As he watched he saw that Sandor was going to be quickly overcome. He didn’t like the big man but he had done nothing to make him distrust him. Besides he seemed important to his half-sister.

Jon let loose four arrows with rapid precision. The walkers approaching Sandor from behind crumpled. Sandor spun, drawing his knife out of a zombies skull. He leveled an icy gaze on the trees where Jon was hiding. Stepping out onto the road Jon laughed, “You know a thank you would suffice…”  
“Yeah thanks kid,” the big guy grumbled, “maybe next time you try not to aim so close to my head. My face isn’t pretty as is.”   
“Imagine how you’d look as a zombie.” 

Sandor stared stone faced and Jon couldn’t help but laugh. He knelt down to remove arrows from the brains of his targets while Sandor took care of the few that had continued to pursue them.   
“Ok you little shit, help me with the bike.” Despite the harshness of his words Jon saw the smirk appearing on his face.   
________________________________________

Once they got the bikes off the road Sandor took the lead. He indicated that they should be able to hook up with the driveway to the cabin if they followed the road in the woods.   
“Best to leave the bikes near there. They won’t be any good to us if we have to hike to them in a pinch. We won’t take the driveway up, too exposed if someone else has found it, but we can follow it easy enough.” 

Walking the motorcycles through the brush wasn’t easy. The going was slow but at least the woods were less populated with the undead. Those they did encounter they heard coming and were able to deal with swiftly and quietly. Jon had to admire the big guys strength and skill at tracking. He seemed to know all the trees and creeks in the bloody forest. ‘He will be a good guy to have in a pinch’ he decided.   
When they finally made it to the base of the “driveway” (it was more of a barely worn path if you asked Jon) they found a thicket in which to hide the bikes. He doubted that anyone had found the cabin. He found it remarkable that Sandor himself would have even been able to see the turn off from the road. 

The trio stopped for water and a little beef jerky that Jon had in his pack. Despite his fierce look, Jon noticed that Sandor was incredibly gentle with Sansa. He seemed to always be watching her; ready to steady her when she stumbled and to attend to her needs before his own. It was as if she was as fragile as porcelain. As they stood, taking in what would pass for dinner tonight, he watched Sandor brush the hair from her face. Jon couldn’t help but feel a pang. He would give anything to be able to reach out and touch Ygritte again. Grinding his teeth he pushed those thoughts from his mind. 

The climb to the cabin was as tiring as the trek with the bikes had been. At times it was an almost completely vertical ascent. ‘This guy was definitely a prepper, no one is vacationing out here…’ As the sun set they crested the final hill. Jon was bringing up the rear of the little party and his defenses went up the second he saw Sandor’s body language. The big guy crouched, extending his hand behind him in a signal for them to stop. 

“Gregor…” 

When Sandor uttered the name Jon watched the color drain out of Sansa’s face.   
____________________________________________________________________________

Sansa had never been much of a hiker but then again she hadn’t been much of a baseball player either. ‘Time to adapt’

The climb wasn’t easy but she couldn’t help be take comfort in the fact that Sandor seemed to never take his eyes off her. She smiled to herself, ‘He would have carried you if you asked…’ She wouldnt ask though, she needed to toughen up. She was done being the damsel for a little while. 

When Sandor uttered that name her heart practically stopped. She had never met Sandor’s brother but Joff had painted a vivid picture. A mountain, even bigger than the Hound and with a deeper mean streak. Her heart clenched as she thought about this monster giving Sandor his scars. 

“Little bird, I want you to stay here. Kid you come with me. We circle the cabin and find out just who is home. If you run into my brother don’t shoot. Leave him for me.”  
“How am I supposed to know if its your brother or not?”  
“You’ll know” Sandor growled. 

As Jon edged forward in the brush to get a better look, Sandor turned to her. Before she knew what was happening he had pulled her close, capturing her mouth in a kiss. The longing in his affection was tangible; he kissed her like a dying man gasping for air. With alarm Sansa thought, ‘He is scared. He is scared he won’t come back to me.’ As quickly as he had wrapped her in his arms he was gone. She wanted to shout, to tell him that they should just go back, but he was already gone. Sansa began to shake, her fear so intense that she thought she might wretch. She watched helplessly as the two men moved in opposite circles around the cabin. The lights inside evidencing its occupation. 

Relief flooded over her when she saw Sandor coming back around. However her relief was short lived when she realized that the figure behind him was too tall to be Jon.   
“Sandor behind you!”

Her cry seemed to shock the stalker as much as it alerted Sandor. He spun and pinned his shadow to the wall of the cabin. Sansa was done waiting around, she grabbed her bat and rushed to his side. As she approached she realized that the man he had by the throat was far too small to be his brother.

“Hello Clegane. Awfully rude way to greet an old friend don’t you think?”

Sansa had heard that voice before. It was Joff’s uncle, the Secret Service agent.   
“Sansa! How nice of you to join us… now where is your charming young boyfriend?”

Before she could formulate an answer she heard footsteps approaching. From around the corner she caught sight of Jon, his arm wrenched behind his back. He was being led by an impossibly large woman. Again it was Jaime Lannister who spoke, “Brienne, let me introduce you to our host, Mr. Clegane. Now wouldn’t we all agree this would be a much more pleasant reunion with fewer choke holds?”


	13. Summit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a good editor. I am sure my updates are riddled with spelling and grammatical errors I miss as I re-read my work. I hope this doesn't detract too terribly from the story!! Bear with me dear readers.

Summit

“You thought you owned property that my family was unaware of?” Jaimes derision stoked the fire of rage already blazing in Sandor’s eyes. Sansa felt like a coil, tightly wound and ready to spring. The tension in the room was quickly becoming too much, she knew that eventually they would have to talk about Joff and the prospect was making her ill. 

“Why are you here?” Sandor managed to force the question out between grinding his teeth with such force Sansa feared for his jaw.   
“My lovely sister thought that I should go on a little excursion to bring home my nephew. Joff. Blonde, tall, a bit of a prick... I think you were acquainted with him Clegane. His absence tells me we have both failed Cersei’s missions.”

Sansa couldn’t help it, she burst into tears. Even if Joffery had been a terrible boyfriend she couldn’t help but feel bad that he had been torn apart by monsters. His mother would feel the loss as keenly as she had felt the loss of her father.

“He’s dead.” Sandor stated, “He wasnt one for following orders and he paid for his recklessness.”  
“Im so sorry.” Sansa managed to choke out.

“Yes well, I am not exactly feeling the familial love at the moment. He is the reason Cersei had me kept out of the bunker. I could be safe underground at the moment if she hadn’t connived to send me on this little misadventure. I am sure I should mourn but he was always heedless. If you ask me his death was Darwinian.” 

The terrible quiet in the room was punctuated only by Sansa’s sobs. The large woman, Jaime had introduced her as Brienne, had been watching her the whole time. She was tall, only slightly shorter than the Hound, with more muscles than any woman Sansa had ever seen. She had hair the color of straw, cropped short, and blue eyes set into a plain face. She wasn’t a beauty but the concern on her face showed her genuine compassion.

Finally she approached laying a hand awkwardly on the girls shoulder.  
“Sansa…” Her voice was deep and shaky, “Your mom sent me to find you.”  
______________________________________________________________________________

Jon had met Catelyn Stark only once. He had suspected that the trip was an exercise in masochistic curiosity on her part. Along with his father, they had had lunch.

Ned would often stop through town, paying visits to Jon and making sure that he had everything he needed. Jon looked forward to those visits; Ned had always treated him as no less than his legitimate children. When he was younger he had been angry that he could not live with him but age had dulled that hurt. Jon was well aware of his place in the world. Few illegitimate children of prominent figures had the access or love he had. 

That day at lunch had been painful to say the least. Jon knew that Catelyn had been aware of his existence from the start. He never questioned why he had never met her, in fact he would have been less shocked by being joined at the table by a flying fish. She had regarded him coolly through the courses, largely ignoring both Ned and himself. Jon suspected he was a source of tension in their otherwise happy marriage. When the meal was finished she had lingered at the door after Ned went to get the car. “You are a bastard, Jon Snow, not even fit to bear the Stark name. Ned has honor that will not permit him to abandon you but don’t ever presume to be worthy. Robb will inherit all that Ned had built, not you.” With that, Catelyn had composed herself, her grace and ladylike charm returning to her features when she caught sight of her husband. Jon was stung by the force of her words and would have been grateful to never hear of her again. Even Sansa, a vision of Catelyn in her youth, had been a difficult reminder. 

Now this giant of a woman was telling Sansa that Catelyn had sent her. ‘Mothers love’ he mused bitterly.  
______________________________________________________________________________

‘You have got to be kidding me.’

Sandor was not pleased with how this night was progressing. He had hoped to give them a real nights sleep. Instead he was watching this mummers show unfold. Of course Brienne has been sent by Catelyn bloody Stark , just as probable as running into Ned’s bastard. 

He listened intently while Brienne explained. She had worked for Renly Baratheon as a Congressional Page. The way she had described Renly told him two things: Brienne had been hopelessly in love with him and she was oblivious to his affinity for Loras Tyrell. Sandor had never cared who others were sleeping with. Renly kept his love for men under wraps because he was a politician , although almost everyone knew or at least suspected. ‘Except for this gigantic dolt’. It seemed that aside from being completely blinded by puppy love , Brienne had made an impression on Catelyn. She explained that she had trained to be a bodyguard originally, even taking on that role in her spare time for Renly. However, the agency wasn’t looking for female hires and she had utilized her father’s connections, as a wealthy businessman, to get her foot in the door another way. When the world went to shit, and Renly got himself gutted after a miserably failed “safety” propaganda rally, Catelyn had taken Brienne in in the chaos. To repay her, Brienne had offered to find Sansa and return her safely to Riverrun. ‘Valiant and stupid.’

Sandor would be a liar if he didn’t admit to feeling a bit possessive of Sansa. He had promised to protect her and he would be damned if this monster of a woman was going to take over that position. ‘And if its better for her in the long run…’ The voice in his head was eating away at him.

“I failed Renly,” she muttered, “But I wont fail your mother, Sansa”

“Where did you find this one Jaime? Decide to share the burden of finding other peoples children?” This time it was Sandor’s turn to lace his query with sarcasm.

“Well I took a nice little presidential helicopter to start of my journey but it turns out that when the dead start rising fuel becomes a scarcity. The pilot had to put us down and decided that I was on my own. I was making pretty good time before I ran into the wench.” Brienne narrowed her eyes at the nickname. “Slayer, my name is…”   
“Yes, yes we all know. Brienne. Fine.”

Clearly this was a game the pair had played often. 

“You have a few nicknames yourself Lannister. Slayer among them…”

Jaimie had been in the secret service for years and for multiple presidents. He had gained particularly unflattering nicknames during his time working for President Targaryen. Aerys Targaryen was called The Mad King often enough behind his back. He had made a number of enemies and no one was particularly surprised or disappointed when he had ended up with a bullet to the brain. What had been a shock was that his most trusted bodyguard, the golden Jaime Lannister, had been on duty. The rumors about who delivered the fatal shot ran through the media like wild fire. Inquiries were inconclusive but everyone held private convictions. If not for Tywin, Jaime likely would not have had a job. 

“Shall we reminisce some more or do you want to know how we ended up here?”  
Sandor merely grunted.

“Well our noble Brienne had managed to get herself caught by a particularly vicious gang of survivors. They called themselves the Brave Companions, and were led by a nasty little man named Vargo Hoat. They caught me unaware; its hard to keep a constant watch when you are alone. They wanted to ransom me, for rations, maybe a place in the bunker. I convinced them that Brienne was worth a ransom as well, saved her from a rapeing. They would have drug us both back in the wrong direction if I hadn’t convinced them that the bunker wasn’t in D.C. Eventually Vargo decided that travelling with the whole group was dead weight, he took me and a few select companions to scout ahead.”

“One night Vargo got a little too drunk, let me in on a secret of what was to happen to Brienne the Beauty in our absence. They were planning to feed her to a bear the group had “rescued” from an overrun circus. I should have left her to it but I demanded we go back. Had to jump into the damn pit myself to get her out. Vargo, the idiot, decided to split off with us both this time. I would have slit his throat in his sleep but Brienne insisted on the honorable method of hand to hand combat. I’ll say she is skilled, and he paid with his life for underestimating her. After that we travelled together. I figured you would have both kids and that you would stop here. You did not disappoint on most accounts.”

‘Joffery’ The name hung unsaid among them, a small pang hitting him in the chest. Sandor did not regret what he had done, the little shit had practically offered himself up to the undead horde. However he had known him since he was a boy and that loyalty ran deep. ‘You let him die though, what does that say about what you feel for Sansa?’ Sandor pushed the thought form his head. 

“Not like you to risk your life for anyone else, Lannister.”

“I dreamt of her.”

The answer was simple, delivered with an honest conviction Sandor had never heard the man use. It caused Brienne to blush deeply, adding to the already uncomfortable aura in the room.   
“Ok... I guess, didn’t realize there would be a bloody governmental summit in my living room. You can stay the night but then you will have to move on. The world is getting too damn small for my liking.”

“See that is where you are wrong. You are applying logic where there is none, Clegane. If you hadn’t noticed the world ended. Survival of the fittest is the rule now. Those with resources, government issued or not, survived and the meek are rising from the dead to inherit the earth. Plus, you heard Brienne, our lots are cast together at the moment.”

Sandor didn’t like that answer. He hadn’t been keen on keeping Jon in the mix, much less adding the Lannister asshole and his oversized girlfriend. However, it wasn’t going to be resolved tonight and he wanted to consult with Sansa anyway. 

“We will talk about it in the morning.” He growled, “Sleep where you want, but we will be taking my bedroom.”

“We?” The question came simultaneously from Brienne and Jaime.

Sansa blushed furiously on the couch.   
“Interesting…” Jaime muttered under his breath.  
They all sat still, waiting for Sansa to make a move.   
______________________________________________________________________________

Sansa was so embarrassed she thought she would die right there. Here she was, sitting face to face with with Joff’s uncle. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in Sandors arms and process the circus that this day had become, but she felt torn and humiliated by the thought that she would appear cruel. 

“Sandor I cant…” The heat in her cheeks was burning in earnest now, “I cared about Joff. You have to believe me…” Her second comment was directed solely at Jaime Lannister. He measured her calmly. 

“I know you did.”  
Again the tears welled in her eyes, she tried furtively to brush them away. 

“No one holds you responsible Sansa” His statement was much more gentle than any of his other exchanges had been. Suddenly the door to Sandors bedroom slammed shut, causing the entire cabin to shake. This time it was Jon who spoke, “Go see if he is ok Sansa, we will set up to sleep out here.”

He had given her an opportunity to extract herself from this mess and she took it. Gently she knocked on Sandors door. From behind the wood she heard him snarl, “What do you want now?” That was an much of an invitation as she was going to get. Quietly she opened the door and slipped inside, closing it lightly behind her.

Sandor was poised in front of his end table. The room was as spartanly furnished as the rest of the cabin; only the bare necessities were available. In his hands was the bottle.   
“Decided to join me afterall, little bird? Wouldn’t want to make a bad impression on our guests. ” He sneered.

Sansa leaned back against the door. She didn’t think she had the energy to fight him right now. She certainly didn't want to be near him when his foul mood combined with alcohol. He turned to her, following her gaze to the bottle in his hand. He dashed it against the wall. It shattered, spraying liquid and glass alike. “IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT!?” He crossed the room, pinning her to the door. His face was inches from her own. “Beginning to regret that you kissed the killer are you? I killed your boyfriend, the ever charming Joffrey Lannister”  
“You didn’t kill him Sandor, you’re not…”

“NOT WHAT, SANSA, NOT A KILLER!? Wrong, I am a killer. The Lannisters are killers. If you survive this Gods forsaken world one day your husband will be a killer and your sons as well.”

“Sandor, please…” She reached for him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his neck. She didn’t know what else to do. She hadn’t meant to hurt him by hesitating to follow him. The whole day had become a mess. “Sandor I want to be with you, you are not the monster you keep trying to convince me you are. You would have kept Joffery safe too if he had listened to you…” 

“Aye, I would have. I would have, until it compromised your safety. No one will hurt you again, or I will kill them.”

Sandor had pledged much the same vow in Joffery’s room. Sansa knew the truth behind his words, he wouldn’t lie to her. He hated liars. “You aren’t a bad person Sandor, stop trying to make me believe you are. You need to start caring for yourself as much as you care for me.” She uttered her own words with the same conviction. “Can we please lay down? I am so tired.”  
“Yes, little bird.”

Exhausted they laid in each others arms for a long time. Sansa found the rhythm of his heart beneath her a soothing constant. She felt more centered, more certain, more safe when he was near. The warmth of his embrace and the exertion of the day would have lulled her to sleep if he had not spoken.  
______________________________________________________________________________  
“We need to talk about Brienne, Sansa. What she said…”

“Stop.” She cut him off, “I don’t know her. I dont know why you keep saying you will protect me if you are constantly willing to leave me.”  
“You might be better off with someone else Sansa. If she is telling the truth she may be your best choice. Even if I delivered you safe and sound to your mom, she isn’t going to want me around. My reputation is no secret.”

“Youre really worried about yourself then.” She was crying again, tears streaming hot down her cheeks, “ You are worried that you’ll deliver me and then lose me. You think that I would let her turn you away. You think that I would be so ungrateful, so heartless that I would forget all that you have done for me. Forget how I… how I feel when I am with you...” 

‘Even when she cries she is beautiful’ He pulled her closer to him, burying his nose in her hair. He planted kisses from the crown of her head down to the crest of her chin, tasting the salty trails of her grief. 

“Yes Sansa, I am thinking of myself. I am thinking that I couldn’t ask you to choose between me and your family. I dont want to know what the answer would be and I don’t want you to even consider it. You are better off with your mother and at the end of the day I may not be allowed into the equation.”

“You are a part of my family now Sandor. You are already asking me to choose. I dont know what will happen tomorrow, I can’t predict what my mother will say. I can’t predict if I will even see her again. The only thing I know is that I never feel as safe as when you are beside me and that we will figure these things out together. Just please, please stop saying you don’t want to be with me.”

All he could do was kiss her as his heart clenched and unclenched inside his chest.


	14. Respite

Respite

Sansa woke up to to Sandor ghosting kisses along the her neck and shoulder. They were so light that they wouldn’t have woken her if she was a more sound sleeper. As it was she kept her eyes closed both enjoying and fearing the sensation it provoked within her. It wasn’t long before her blush betrayed her, she had always been a terrible liar. “So the little bird is awake then?” His breath was hot against her ear, causing a shiver to run down her spine. 

Before now Sansa hadn’t had the luxury of considering her relationship with Sandor. Every kiss and every embrace up till this point had been about instinct; the instinct to feel safe in his arms, rather than butterflies and school girl crushes. Her rapid heart beat now felt a lot more like the latter. Rolling to face him she nodded in response to his question, quickly burrowing her face in his neck to hide her nervousness.   
______________________________________________________________________________

If there was a woman more beautiful than Sansa Stark you would be hard pressed to convince Sandor. 

‘It’s the bloody apocalypse and I’ve won the lottery’

He had fantasized about this scene more often than he cared to admit. If truth be told, Sansa had been chief in all of his fantasies since had had met her. However, it was the innocent visions that disturbed him most, maybe because they were uncomfortable evidence of how lost he truly was. 

A cascade of auburn hair flowed over the arm pillowing her head, leaving her slender neck and shoulder bared to him. 

‘More tempting than whiskey by far...’

He winced, remembering the sound of the bottle shattering against the wall. He knew the evidence of his rage would still be littering the floor. However, as clear as his transgression, he could also recall what she had said to him. “Sandor, I want to be with you…” As his eyes took in the vision laying in his arms he couldn’t help but let the dark voice inside him speak to the possessiveness he had felt for far too long. ‘If she wants to be mine… then ill make her mine. I won’t let her go.’

Sandor had wanted her to be his since the moment he saw her. He had seethed with rage disproportionate to his position in her life every time he had seen the frat boys leer on campus. He had had to resist the urge to break more than one buggers jaw when they would “accidentally” bump into her in the crowded college bars, groping bits of her that he only dreamed of touching. He would be a liar if he said he hadn’t taken satisfaction from bashing the skulls of a couple of those assholes re-animated corpses on his way to free her and Joff. 

The rabbit hole of need swallowed him whole when he began to kiss her.

‘I won’t give her up. Mine.’  
______________________________________________________________________________

“Look at me little bird.”

Sansa shook her head quickly against his neck. Desperately she pressed closer to him, hoping in vain that he could smother her embarrassment. Gently he hooked his finger under her chin, drawing her head up to look into his eyes. Comically, he knitted his brows in confusion at the deep crimson Sansa knew she was blushing. 

“Im sorry…” she stammered, the words tumbling out of her, “Its just that we haven’t had any time...not like this...and I’ve never done… I mean, I've never been this intimate.”

She paused, even more flustered than before.

“I’m nervous.”  
______________________________________________________________________________

Virgin.

The word cropped up in his mind unbidden. 

‘You really are a dog…’

Of course he had always suspected. Sansa may not have known about Margaery but Sandor had. The little dipshit hadn’t known what a prize he had, so instead he wasted time on a more willing plaything. 

“Sansa i'm not… I wasn’t trying to do anything… I just wanted to kiss you.”

“I know! I know, Im sorry I am just nervous. I have never felt like this… I mean Joff and I never slept together, or even really cuddled like this. Gods, m sorry for mentioning… I don’t know what is wrong with me.”

He captured her mouth in a kiss, gently licking her lower lip until she parted her lips to him, deepening the kiss. She whimpered into his mouth, seeking his tongue with her own and Sandor could have died happy in that moment. Instead he pulled her on top of him, freeing both arms to explore her. He caressed her sides, trailing his fingertips from her hips to just below her breast. His free hand tangled in her hair, scratching her scalp and eliciting more intoxicating moans. Eventually he hooked his other hand under the hem of her shirt, in truth his shirt, being careful to not stray from her lower back. Just a sliver of skin, but nothing had ever felt so incredible. He couldn’t said how long they kissed so fervently, but eventually he pulled away from her mouth, placing gentle kisses along her jaw and forehead. Panting she laid her head on his chest.

“Sansa, I haven’t been with anyone either… not like this. Not when it meant something.”

He let that admission hang between them before plowing on.

“I will never force you to do anything you don't want to.” He tilted her head up to make sure she could read the sincerity in his eyes. She nodded in his grasp. “Just kissing you is… its insane, I feel like a green boy again.”

She giggled. He smiled to himself, the ruined of his face tightening. He regretted the fact that he would never be handsome when he smiled. 

“I want you. It’s that simple, but I could never take anything from you…”  
“I know…. thank you, Sandor.”

They laid like that for a while longer. Sandor drank in every perfect moment, each better than anything he had ever fantasized about.   
______________________________________________________________________________

Sansa didn’t have a lot to compare it too but she had never experienced anything close to the sensation that Sandor’s proximity elicited in her. With each kiss and caress heat pooled low in her belly and she found that she couldn’t help the completely un-ladylike noises that it provoked. Joff had never made her feel this way. ‘And you thought you loved him…’ Sansa had been a silly girl, her head full of dreams and fairy tales. She couldn’t afford to be that girl anymore but she couldn’t help but feel like Sandor was her knight in shining armour. He wasn’t as chivalrous as all the stories, or as pretty, but he was strong and he protected her and he made her feel safe. She knew she had to be strong on her own, to harden herself to some of this world but she wondered if it was ok to keep a little of her innocence. Her trail of thought, and the comfortable silence that she and Sandor had lapsed into were both shattered by a knock at the door. 

“Hound.” The unmistakable voice of Jaime Lannister intruded on their paradise, bringing the sharp reality of the world they found themselves in back into focus. “Get up, there are some matters we need to sort out still.”  
“Ill be out when I’m bloody well ready Slayer.”  
“I see a good nights sleep does nothing for your attitude. Great, I’ll be outside with the wench and the bastard then.”

Gently Sansa raised herself up from his chest. Propping himself up on his elbows he brought their faces within inches once again, causing Sansa’s heart to jump at the prospect of another kiss. Instead he nodded his head to the left indicating a door Sansa hadn’t noticed the night before. “There’s a bathroom in there, we should still have hot water if the generator has gas. You could shower if you wanted. Gods knows you stink like the seven hells.” Sansa made to swat at him but he anticipated and caught her arm knocking her off balance and back down on the bed, arms pinned above her head. This time, towering over her, he did kiss her again. Sansa said a silent prayer to whatever God was listening that every kiss would cause these butterflies. 

“Youre incorrigible you know?”  
“No ones ever told me in such fancy, or non-vulgar language before but I got the idea.”

Letting her up, he walked to his dresser, discarding his shirt as he went. Sansa had to make a real effort to not gasp embarrassingly. She knew he was huge but seeing him bare was an entirely different thing. The expanse of his back was criss-crossed with silver scars, a map of the violent life he led. She couldn’t help herself, from her perch on the end of the bed she reached up to trail her fingers down a particularly nasty length. His whole body froze at the contact, causing Sansa to snatch back her hand. “Im sorry…” she blushed furiously, “Its just there are so many scars, didn’t it hurt to get sliced up like that?” She wanted to die as soon as the words escaped her lips, of course it hurt. Had his whole life been a study in torture?  
“Aye, little bird, they all hurt but not at the time. Its amazing what you can ignore when you are fighting.”  
She nodded. 

“You know, if we are going to play show and tell… I think its my turn.” Before she could scramble away he had her around the waist tickling her. As she struggled his hand once again dipped below her shirt, causing goosebumps to prick her skin. At the contact he slowly stopped teasing her, causing them both to pause. Tentatively he slid his hands up, to her ribs. His face searched hers the whole time, waiting for her to tell him to stop. She appreciated the concern as she reveled in the new, intoxicating sensation. Once again the voice of Jaime broke the spell, “CLEGANE ITS NEARLY MIDDAY”

“Ah, saved by the bell then.” He muttered, his voice husky with anticipation, “And good for me. Who knows what would have happened if id gotten too near your arm pits.” Quirking his eyes brows at her he wasn’t fast enough to dodge her playful smack this time. 

“Youre terrible.”  
“Towels are in the bathroom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been a long time since I have felt inspired so this is just a short chapter to capture some of that. I hope you enjoy the fluff before I get back to the rest of the characters.


	15. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has been so long since I last updated! Hopefully a few people are still reading :)

As Sandor stood up from the bed he immediately regretted the fact that he would have to confront real life. Somehow dealing with the King Slayer wasn’t as appealing as staying with his little bird. ‘Bloody Lannisters’  
Reluctantly he pulled on his boots and exited the front door, pausing in the afternoon sun to stretch. It was hard to imagine that the world was falling to pieces in a place this serene. He had always liked the solitude of this cabin. He had half a mind to stay. He shook his head; dispelling the already forming fantasy of life here with his little bird. “Lannister!” he called gruffly, “What in the seven bloody hells is so important?”  
A little ways off Jaime and Brienne were hunched over what looked like a map spread out on the camp table Sandor used to clean fish from the nearby stream.   
“Nice of you to join us,” Jaime responded without looking up. “What a luxury it is to lay around all day feasting on our masters scraps.”  
Jaime Lannister was not one to be underestimated in a fight but Sandor took him by surprise, wrapping his hand around his neck and lifting him off the ground.   
Growling he brought the Lannister twats face within inches of his own. “Not my master and Sansa Stark has never been scraps.”   
______________________________________________________________________________

The Hound was uncharacteristically fast for a man of his size. Brienne was only half shocked when the King Slayers remarks got him a foot off the ground, face slowly turning purple. She was about to intervene when Sandor dropped Jaime in a heap and stalked off toward to tree line.   
“Youre a real charmer you know.” She stated as she eyed Jaime still rubbing his neck on the ground.   
“We both know you find me irresistible wench.”  
Brienne fixed him with an icy glare; she did not appreciate being mocked. Her whole life she had been the butt of one joke or another. Always taller and more athletic than the boys in her class and lacking the femininity of the girls she had never been popular. In high school the meaner set had taken to calling her “Brienne the Beauty”.   
“As usual you manage to be completely useless. Map your own route it seems like most people don’t care where you end up.” With that she turned on her heels and headed towards the cabin. The Hound still hadn’t reappeared and she had some questions for Sansa.  
______________________________________________________________________________

A real, warm shower was decadent. Sansa was so glad when she turned the handle and felt the water heating up. As she scrubbed her pale skin to pinkness she glanced happily at the razor on the ledge next to the very manly all in one body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. She had found a package of them in the medicine cabinet and been practically giddy. As she let it glide over her legs she thought about how important the little things would be in this new world. She would have to rely on little happinesses or be swallowed by the harshness of it all. ‘You have him’ the voice in her head was almost automatic, the thought of his kisses and embrace causing her to blush.   
___________________________________________________________________________

Brienne knocked on the bedroom door remembering the commotion behind it the night before. If it had not been for the boy stopping her she would have barged in right then. As it was she had not liked the thought of Sandor alone with Sansa but she had resolved to ask Sansa privately. ‘Don’t need to give the brute another reason to rage about like an oversized toddler’.   
She heard Sansa’s faint invitation and opened the door a crack. The girl was on her hands and knees using an old tee shirt to mop up glass and amber liquid. ‘Well that explains the noise’ As she turned to appraise her visitor at the door she winced. A shard of glass revealing itself in her palm as the bloom of red spread over the tee shirt. Quickly, Brienne stepped to her side, careful to avoid the mess. She helped Sansa to stand and followed her to the bathroom, searching the cabinet for bandaids.   
“It’s not deep.” Sansa informed her, gingerly pulling the shard from the cut. She reached past Brienne to run her hand under the water of the faucet.  
Brienne could not find bandaids but settled for a strip of gauze and some tape. “Won’t do to risk infection” she informed. Sansa held out her palm, allowing the woman to bandage her wound. When she was done, Sansa tested her hand, opening and closing her fingers around the wrapping. “Thanks” the girl smiled warmly as she looked up.  
“Sansa… I wanted to talk to you. I mean.. about Sandor. You know, you don’t have to… if he is making you…” Flustered, Brienne’s diatribe was brought to a halt when Sansa cut in.  
“No. It’s not like that! He is kind to me…” Sansa must have noticed the dubious look on her face because she pressed on, “Really… he has protected me and I… I feel safe with him.”  
The furious blush that crept up the girl’s cheeks only added to Brienne’s confusion about what was happening between the beauty and the beast.  
“He isn’t your only option anymore. I know that once this all started you needed him to help you make it but I promised your mother that I would deliver you to her safely.”  
“I told you, it’s not like that. He promised to keep my safe too and I don’t want to be separated from him. He’s never forced me into anything, all he has done is protect me.”  
Brienne caught the girl’s eye and saw the conviction in her words. Silently she resolved to keep any eye on the situation, not waiting to step in next time she heard something that raised her suspicion. Gods help him if she ever saw him raise a hand to the girl.  
“Jaime plans to move today. He wants to start heading east as soon as possible in hope that we can put some ground behind us before winter comes. The change in weather will slow us down and make finding shelter more important.”  
Sansa nodded adding only that she would talk to Sandor about it. ‘Great’   
Brienne hovered, suddenly aware that she was much too large for the cramped space of the bathroom. Sansa waited, expecting her to say something more but Brienne was at a loss. She wanted to gain the girls trust but socializing with other women had never been her strong suit. Duty, that was what she was good at. Absently she thumbed at the knuckle duster attached to her belt. Sansa noticed her fidgeting and drew her eyes down to the blade.   
“Oathkeeper” Brienne blurted, “Jaime gave it to me, I think he meant to mock me by naming the blasted thing but I plan to use it to keep my promise to your mother.”   
“You think my mother is safe? Do you think the farm was safe?”   
“Your mother is a strong woman, I have no doubt she can handle herself.”  
Sansa looked past Brienne, her face sad. “I hope so.” The conversation was over, Brienne backed form the bathroom, allowing Sansa passage to exit.   
“Well I think Sandor and Jaime should have sorted out their squabble by now, Ill find them and help make the preparations to move.”  
____________________________________________________________________________

When Sansa appeared at the front door, Sandor had to fight the urge to trot to her side like a lost puppy. He and Jamie had been bickering over the route they would take for the last fifteen minutes and Sandor was finding himself wholly disinterested. ‘Bugger the Slayer, the little bird is the only thing that matters’. Sandor accepted the reality that safety lay in numbers but was equally comfortable with the reality that should he have to chose he and the little bird would go it on their own. For the time being, as much as he irked him, Sandor was well aware of Jaime’s ability and if her size was any indication, the woman he toted with him would be an asset as well. Jon had already proved himself to be skilled with the bow and quiet enough not to annoy Sandor too badly.   
As he watched, Brienne appeared behind Sansa in the doorway. A frown knit Sandor’s brow. ‘If that beast of a woman thinks she will be taking over the little bird’s care she is sorely mistaken’ Vows to her mother be damned, he had taken over the role of protector just fine and he did not relish sharing. As if reading his thoughts, Brienne cast Sandor a sour look. He grinned crookedly at the wench as Sansa appeared at his side, lacing her fingers through his and leaning into his arm.   
“What are we doing?”  
“We are packing up little bird.” Sandor noticed Sansa shook Jaime a glance at the sound of her nickname. If the man noticed he had the good sense not to comment. “For now we will all travel together, it will be safer to have more people around.”  
“Lucky for you I have more social skills than your dog…” Jaime added with quirked eyebrows and a lopsided smile.   
Sansa merely nuzzled closer to Sandor, casting a glance around the yard. “Is Jon around?”  
“Went to hunt. We will stay here tonight and move in the morning.”  
‘Mine’ the word kept echoing in his head as he felt the warmth of Sansa affection spread through his body. ‘Bugger what the wench and the King Slayer think… she chose me.’  
Jon returned in the late afternoon, three rabbits hanging from his belt. Brienne helped to clean the animals and Sansa helped to collect wood to build a fire. Preparations to move were easily made. The cabin was well stocked and Jaime had been luckier with gas then Sandor, having stolen several extra canisters from The Bloody Mummers. As night fell the SUV Jaime and Brienne had been travelling in was packed and ready. The group ate in relative silence, each appraising the others around the fire. Even the King Slayer seemed resigned, forgoing his regular sarcastic banter in favor of eying Jon. If he knew who the boy was, he didn’t let on, not yet. As the meal ended Sandor stroked Sansa’s arms absent mindedly, appreciative that the girl did not shy away from showing the group her affinity for him. It took everything he had not to throw the girl over his shoulder and carry her off to his bed. Filling as the rabbit had been he found himself consumed by another type of hunger. As if reading the need that rolled off of him, Sansa leaned into his neck, whispering, “I think it’s time for bed.”


End file.
